Could Be, Might Be, A Possibility
by Macx
Summary: moviefic, Imperfection Deviation 'verse. An accident puts Will Lennox in a situation he hadn't signed up for when he became commander of the human unit of the Autobot base. It changes his life forever. M-ish rating for some chapters for suggestive content
1. It started with a oneshot

TITLE: Could Be. Might Be. A Possibility.  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):   
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

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This could be called a futurefic. Possibly. Maybe just a speculation. And it's what happens when the brain cell weirds out on me. You all probably know those ideas that get stuck with you for a while, never get written because there's no real plot, just this one scene that won't let you go, and finally you drop it because you have ab-so-lute-ly no clue how to explain it. You keep it around in the back of your head, play around, then dump it once more. I have tons of those. For all kinds of fandoms.

With the TF Movie 'verse it's one of the few, few times I let it out and actually managed to string enough sentences together to a) make it a ficlet and b) have a moderate attempt of plot to be found here or there.

This is still set in my Imperfection 'verse, but for the first time I play with someone else, with an idea I haven't seen anywhere else so far.

Don't hit me...

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It had been an accident. Clear and simple. Maybe Ratchet shouldn't have taken out the Allspark shard to study it. Maybe Ironhide shouldn't have walked into the lab. Maybe Major Lennox should have gone with his team to Las Vegas to have some fun.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Looking into the mirror Lennox drew a finger down his chest and watched the skin ripple like it was nothing but a holographic image. It felt human, but it was… different. Tiny fissures around his finger grew, then contracted, flowing together into smooth skin once more. If he concentrated hard enough he could even make them change… shape, color, texture… whatever.

He was human. And then again not. He was alive, but part of him had also died.

His palm rested against his stomach. There were no scars, no sign that a huge piece of alien metal had torn into him – and disappeared.

It had spread out like dye in water, merging with him, becoming him.

Will raised the hand from his stomach and watched intricate patterns whisper over his skin.  
Like living tattoos, he mused. They were all over his body, most prominently on his back, running down his spine, his arms and his legs. Whorls and curves and wriggly lines and ancient runes.

Part of him wondered how human cells could absorb alien metal without dying. Another was just too happy to be alive at the moment to care.

Dr. Keyron and Ratchet were working feverishly on his case, always poking and prodding, drawing samples. It was throughout one examination that Will had discovered that he could bend needles, keeping them from penetrating his skin, and blocking medical scans.

Cool.

Ratchet had been stumped and Keyron had just turned to make more notes.

He was a freakin' experiment.

Lennox was on indefinite medical leave from his unit. Epps had taken over seamlessly. He was still at the base, but no longer as the commander of the human unit of the Autobot base.

It left him with a lot of time.

Mostly to think.

Again his hand strayed to the smooth expanse of skin on his stomach. Nothing there. He didn't feel any different. He hadn't felt all too bad after waking, finding people and mechs staring at him as if they expected him to do something strange. According to Ironhide there had been the explosion, Lennox falling to the ground, specks of blood on his uniform, and they had watched the ugly entry wound heal immediately.

So was he the Allspark now?

Ratchet didn't think so. He didn't emit any kind of energy signatures.

"It's like it trans-scanned humans and… merged with you, Major," Ratchet had tried to explain. "Genetically you are as different from any human, even Sam, as you can ever be. Your DNA has… become something else."

"What?"

"We have no idea."

"We know next to nothing about the Allspark," Keyron had spoken up. "Maybe this is how it travelled the universe? Maybe it adapted its form, the one we know, the cube, to suit the mechanoids of Cybertron. It has been on Earth for thousands of years and it never did anything, until Sam. After it influenced Sam, maybe that started a process."

"And I was next?"

"Maybe."

Lennox didn't like the idea, but what was done was done. The Allspark shard was inside him and he was… no longer human.

"You're taking this well."

Lennox looked up from his contemplation of his rather cold coffee mug and smiled at Sam. The young man looked quizzically at him. Like Lennox he was no longer who he had been before the Autobots had changed their lives.

"There's nothing I can change about it. Call it military breeding. It just is what it is."

"Ironhide's worried. They all are."

"I know."

"I heard Banachek wants to keep you in command."

Lennox shrugged. He didn't care. He would stay here, civilian or not. He had burned a lot of bridges in the past and blowing up another one, his military career, was nothing compared to what lay ahead.

"Just in case you're wondering," Sam said into the silence that had fallen, "you don't feel… like the Allspark to me. Not really. I think if I can deep-link, or whatever it might be when it comes to you, I might get something. But you're more like a hybrid system."

Will laughed. "That really sounds weird, Sam, but thanks. It's appreciated."

Sam nodded. Neither had any idea what it meant for Lennox's future, but whatever it was, it would be here, with the Autobots.

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"I'm not the fucking Allspark! Stop treating me like some idol!"

Lennox's explosion was loud, harsh, but not really surprising. Optimus Prime knelt down, meeting the irate eyes that had taken on a rather inhuman glow. He wondered if Will knew about these new changes.

"It's not our intention to treat you like an… idol."

"Tell that to Ratchet! The guy wants to put me on a pedestal because I've had some freaky accident and have a damned alien shard inside me! I'm not one of you! I'm not the Allspark all of a sudden! I'm not some life-giving device!"

"I… we understand. I also understand your anger."

And he did. What had happened had left them all shell-shocked. Will was still undergoing changes that spoke of the Allspark influence. Like Sam he had been touched by something not from this planet. In Sam's case it had been accidental exposure to alien radiation. Lennox had been in the wrong spot at the wrong time. While Optimus was glad the human wasn't dead, he still wondered if death wouldn't have been preferable.

Will ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "Listen, I'm only too happy to help you guys figure out what happened. Hell, I want to know myself! But whatever you do, I won't be your savior! I'm not going to… to… give birth to new mechs, okay? I'm me!"

Prime chuckled softly. "I don't think Ratchet wanted to imply any of what you think. It's hard for us to understand what occurred, just like it is for you. To know that a piece of the device that gave our planet life is inside you… we do believe we need to protect you."

"I'm not helpless!"

Optimus nodded. That was a fact, too. Lennox was battle-hardened and Ironhide had seen to it that every human in the unit and Sam as well had received training that would insure continued survival in a possible Decepticon attack.

Lennox slumped a little, looking tired. He raised one hand and turned it to look at the tattoos crawling over his inner arm. Optimus watched the display, fascinated like they all were. To his optics the symbols looked like they were alive, like a living entity.

"Here I thought I'd be looking at an early retirement in maybe fifteen years. Now…"

"I'm sorry, Will. I wish it wouldn't have happened."

"Nothing you could have done about it, Prime. It was an accident."

Yes, it had been. One everyone regretted.

"Keller called," Will went on, still looking at the symbols chasing each other on his skin. "Nothing's written in stone yet, but I know I'm gonna be retired with all honors. Banachek is still trying to make a deal, but this is a bit more than just some freaky accident that left me with a minor disability."

"Will…"

"No, it's okay," Lennox interrupted the Autobot. "It's really okay."

But he didn't sound like it. Optimus knew his voice made no change in the military's decision and he understood the reasoning. Still, it was hard. He felt responsible, like he felt the weight of so many decisions he had made in the past on his shoulders.

Lennox closed his hand into a tight fist and the symbols disappeared. He met the sad, blue optics of the much larger Autobot.

"You got an open spot?" he asked lightly, smiling.

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Over the following months Ironhide was amazed by his friend's ability to adapt to all his changes, especially his body's. He was no longer part of the human military hierarchy and he had asked Optimus to remain here, as a civilian.

"It's your choice, Will," had been Prime's answer. "I'd be glad to still have you here."

So he had stayed, officially called a 'military advisor', moving into the area that was mainly for their human allies. With the help of his former unit he had turned one huge area into his living space with everything he needed. Lennox had no more command over his former men, but his 'consults' and 'advise' was nothing less than what he had done before, just without official capacity. He could no longer command, just recommend.

Throughout the year that followed the accident, the changes in Lennox were even more pronounced. Some runes stayed and didn't disappear into what he jokingly called his 'chameleon skin' any more. One was on his neck. Another was on the small of his back. The last on his left, inner wrist.

His abilities to change his skin coloration grew, turned into one of even changing his makeup. It was a slow process of learning, of trial and error, but the former Army Ranger was nothing if not tenacious.

"I look like the silver surfer with hair," Lennox muttered and regarded his reflection.

Ironhide chuckled at the result of endless training. The silvery skin had the ability to deflect bullets, so it was a rather practical change. Will concentrated and suddenly the colors shifted, mimicked Ironhide's color scheme and his eyes turned a bright blue.

"Cool," the former Army Ranger commented.

Ironhide watched him appreciatively.

"Now let's try this…" Will murmured.

The weapons specialist stepped back in almost shocked surprise when the human form stretched and reassembled itself, Lennox creating what could only be called a basic protoform. Black, four toes, four fingers, the red fluid-metal interfaces glowing softly within. Dark connective tissue flexed, sky blue optics blinking, then raised to meet Ironhide's darker blue ones.

"Will?" Ironhide asked, voice unsteady.

Cybertron's Pits… he had expected a lot, but never this. Not at all something like this!

"I didn't know it would work," came the awed whisper. "I just thought… and it happened… and wow…"

He wasn't tall. At least not as tall as Ironhide. Maybe Bumblebee's size. But for such a small life form to become so big… Ironhide wondered what else the Allspark enabled Lennox to do.

"Yes," the mech finally said. "Wow…. Can you… trans-scan?"

Because protoforms were the most basic form of a Cybertronian. Supremely resistant to damage, but still never seen for very long. They always chose a camouflage.

"I doubt it. I mean, this is still me. I just… uhm… mimic."

Ironhide reached out and touched the smaller human… mech… hybrid… whatever, feeling the strange texture of the skin. It wasn't real protoform metal. It still felt strangely organic. Runes flitted over the touched place and disappeared like a ghost back into the skin.

Will's optics fixed on him and brightened briefly, then Ironhide let his hand fall away again. He gazed at his fingers, remnants of the weird tattoos still chasing themselves. It felt… not bad. And unlike anything he had ever touched. Good, too. Like he wanted to do it again. He doubted Lennox would consent to being petted like a drone.

"I think this means a whole new training," Lennox commented softly, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah."

"And having Ratchet poke and prod me."

Ironhide chuckled. "That's a given."

"Figured as much."

And only time would tell what else would change. Ironhide was as much aware of it as was Will. The human hybrid changed his form yet again, once more looking like the man he had met all those years back. From the outside he wasn't different, but inside, right down to his DNA, he had been altered so completely, Ironhide couldn't really wrap his mind around it.

"Feel like a ride?" Lennox interrupted his musings. "Because I do."

"Where to?"

"You choose. I just want to get some air."

Ironhide shrugged. He heard the unspoken plea to just be somewhere else, away from the base. Lennox did a lot of hard thinking when he was on his own and it had become a pattern for them over the years to seek out lonely spots and just… sit there.

The Autobot transformed and opened a door. Lennox climbed in and leaned back, immediately comfortable. This hadn't changed at all. Will Lennox was a comfortable person to be around with, a fellow soldier and warrior, and Ironhide had found he had developed an attachment to the human, not unlike Bumblebee had with Sam.

Whatever else was changing, he didn't care. Will was his friend. His changes didn't change that and never would. While Ironhide hadn't been assigned as his guardian or protector, the role had evolved over the time they knew each other. Neither spoke about it. It was never brought up, but both were very much aware of their relationship.

And whatever happened, Ironhide knew he would be there. 

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This had been planned as a one-shot. Between posting this on the LJ and now on FFNet, the ficlet has spawned more bunnies. While this story spans a lot of time, the others will be concentrating on what happened to Will Lennox, his life, his military career, how his abilities developed. I'll add them on as chapters to this.

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shakes head Man...and I can't even blame it on cold medication ;) The only inspiration that's been haunting me for weeks is the Saturn ad here in Germany, with the Allspark-cube-like thingy and the pseudo mech skin. I am inspired by the strangest things...


	2. Breaking Ties

TITLE: Breaking Ties  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

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Coming back from San Francisco was like leaving his life behind. Everything. Not just his military career. Just about everything.

Former Army Ranger Major Will Lennox stepped from the helicopter and looked around. The pilot was just cutting the engines of the helicopter, the rest of the crew was working around him, and not even his two 'bodyguards' were really looking at him. It was like he was some kind of stranger, ready to be handed over with great relief to someone else.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

The voice of Sergeant Robert Epps penetrated his thoughts. Lennox turned and smiled briefly at his friend and former second in command.

"Yeah. You go on ahead. I got limo service."

Epps nodded. He was smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His hand went up into a salute.

"Leave it, Rob. It's the past."

"Can't a man show his respect?" the tech sergeant asked lightly.

"You had so little of it before," Will teased in return.

"Aw, man, don't say that. You know I respected your skinny little white ass."

"How about you get your own ass out of here and back to base. You got my job now, sergeant."

"And that's different from before how?"

Lennox laughed and watched the other man go. As Epps went, Lennox's smile died down a little. His eyes fell on a black topkick parked just left off the airfield. He had been flown to Frisco from Nellis and returned twelve hours later. Ironhide was still here. It felt reassuring to see him.

Everything had changed.

Now he was a civilian.

Forced early retirement.

It was hot outside, but he was wearing long sleeves. A baseball cap shaded his face, pulled low to keep prying eyes away. Sunglasses hid his eyes. He would have covered up his face if it hadn't looked like he was the Mummy come to life.

Those who had accompanied him hadn't really looked at him, but he had seen the glances. All were in on the big secret of alien life forms located out in the abandoned Airforce hangar base. All knew of Lennox, his unit, some had been with him for a while to get special training.

And they had looked at the tattoos.

Lennox ineffectively pulled on the sleeves, but they didn't get any longer than they already were. And what good did it do now? He was back home, away from the other world outside what he had lived and breathed in the last years. It was scary how safe and good he felt with the Autobots, how reluctant he was to return to 'normality'. Being with the mechs had changed his life and his perspective. He knew Epps and some of the others shared that feeling, though not as strongly.

Will was silent as the truck left the gate and headed toward the road further out into the desert.

Keller had been there. And Banachek. The former head of research of Sector Seven had argued with Keller, had told him that they needed Lennox with the unit. Keller had decided that what had happened posed too much of a risk. If Will was called anywhere on official business, the changes would be visible to everyone.

Lennox gazed at his hands. His wrist showed a single tattoo, but it faded under his gaze, then seemed to slip back into his skin and disappear. A brief look into the rear view mirror showed nothing on his face, but a line of glyphs was running along the left side of his neck. The pulsed gently, like living creatures, wriggling a little. He felt nothing of it. No tickling, no sense at all.

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Ironhide stopped away from the base about two hours later. Lennox got out and looked around the plateau his friend had chosen. The familiar sound of transformation followed and then Ironhide knelt down, looking at him.

"So now it's official," Lennox said softly. "I'm out."

"You're still with us."

He turned his head, smiling dimly at his friend. "Yeah. No choice there."

"Would you leave if you had one?"

"No."

And it was the truth. Plain and simple. He wanted to be here. It made a difference.

"I talked to Banachek about… everything else," Lennox went on, evading the cool gaze. "He said he'll make it happen."

Ironhide made a noise that sounded like a sigh. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I can't be out there, Ironhide. What happened that day… the accident… I died. That part of me is gone. I can't go to the beach and work on my tan. I can't go and see Sarah for a few hours, play with Annabelle, or ride along to a school play. It's everywhere," he whispered.  
"Just about everywhere."

He clenched his hands into fists, seeing the runes again. No longer flowing, just sitting there, taunting him. He couldn't hate them, because they were part of himself, and he wasn't hating himself.

Ironhide's hands touched him, a huge finger carefully brushing over his back. Will briefly wondered if he had learned that from Bumblebee. He knew how the smaller mech interacted with Sam, how close they were. Ironhide wasn't really like Bumblebee in that regard. Still, there were moments of closeness, there had been in the past, mostly when they were alone, and Lennox had come to enjoy them.

"I'm dead now," the ex-Army Ranger murmured. "Sarah will get the visit, there'll be the burial with the flag and all. Damn…"

"You didn't argue the idea… much," Ironhide rumbled softly.

"No. 'Cause it's for the best. How do I explain that I'm some friggin' billboard for Cybertronian ads to my ex-wife?" Lennox laughed darkly. "I get the looks from my own men. You know how freaked she'll be?"

He leaned his head back against the cool metal hand, sighing.

"I know it's the right decision. I can't hide this. Sam can. His technopathy is one thing. This here… it's different. I know emotions set off the runes sometimes. I wonder what they say? Probably 'fuck off' in Cybertronian."

Ironhide chuckled. "Something like it."

Will closed his eyes. 

"You'll stay?" the weapons specialist finally asked.

Lennox wondered if it was anxiety that he detected in the dark voice. He smiled a little.

"Yeah. I talked to Epps. He said they'll help move my stuff into another area. At least what I have here. Banachek's men are clearing out my official place, get that here as well. I'll room in with you." He grinned a little.

"You already have."

Yeah. He had spent so much time at the base in the past years, he didn't even know what his apartment really looked like. Thank god he didn't have any plants.

"I could always apply for a place with you guys, hm? Think Optimus has a spot open for me?"

"You are part of this team, Will. Like Sam."

He met the blue optics. Ironhide's expression was intense, full of meaning.

"Yeah. I have," the human replied quietly. "Thanks for sticking with me."

"You're my friend, Will. You're a part of my team."

He nodded.

Sometimes Lennox wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been at the Soccent base in Qatar. He might be dead now. Killed by Blackout anyway. Or another Decepticon. Because maybe the battle wouldn't have been won. Maybe the Autobots would have lost. One man could make a difference and maybe all of them, his unit, had been that difference.

Patting the forearm armor of his friend, Lennox reluctantly straightened, pushing away from Ironhide's hand.

"Let's go. I need to get my stuff packed."

The runes seemed to rise to the surface again, his agitation showing. He drew a deep breath, holding it for a second, then let it go slowly. The runes shimmered gently, a rather beautiful whorl of lines. It seemed to float on his fist, then crawl up his forearm. Lennox pulled on the long sleeves again.

Two fingers grabbed his hand, ever so careful, stopping him.

"Don't," Ironhide said roughly.

His hand was drawn away from the sleeve.

"What…?"

"Don't hide."

Lennox felt something inside him flare with anger at the soft tone, at the expression. "Because what? I look like your Allspark? I'm not!" he snapped.

It was an old argument.

"I know that. Covering yourself won't change that either."

Will removed his hand from the gentle grasp, glaring at the runes. He pushed back the sleeve and watched a line of them, lighter than the others, spiral up his arm.

Again there was a touch. Ironhide's index finger followed the path of the runes and they seemed to pulse. Lennox stared and felt a shiver down his spine. For a moment he thought he felt those very glyphs crawl down his back.

Ironhide's optics flared a little, then he withdrew his brief touch.

"What do they say?" Lennox asked, mouth dry.

"Random phrases. Some ancient. I recognize the writing, but not the context."

"Uh-huh. Okay. So I'm not some kind of open book?"

Ironhide chuckled. "No one can read your thoughts because of what's on your skin."

"One good thing then."

"Want to go back now?"

"Hey, you brought me out here."

Ironhide smirked a little. "You needed it."

"Crash course in psychology, Dr. Ironhide?"

The large mech rose, snorting, then transformed. "Knowing you humans for years."

"Right."

Lennox leaned back and let his friend do all the driving. Not that Ironhide easily surrendered control, if at all.

As the base drew nearer, Will felt himself tense. A low rumble permeated the cabin and it seemed to resonate deep inside him. It turned into a reassuring hum when the topkick stopped.

"Well, here we go," Will murmured.

He hesitated another second, then pushed up his sleeves and revealed the now still glyphs. He shoved the sunglasses up his nose, grabbed his bag, and got out.

Ironhide transformed and followed like a bodyguard as they entered the hangar. For the first time Lennox was no longer in charge. For the first time he was here as a civilian.

That's what he was going to be from now on.

Just another change in his life.

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I should know by now that weird ideas start an avalanche of fic with me... It's how the Imperfection 'verse was born; me totally clueless, the brain cell on a high, and my computer helpless in my clutches...

shrugs and gives up


	3. Defining Human

TITLE: Defining Human  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
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_He was trapped._

His arms and legs didn't move. They were heavy... somehow alien to him. He couldn't twitch a finger and he couldn't even feel them anymore. He saw his arms, his fingers, his legs, but they weren't his.

His heart beat.

No... it didn't...

Listening very hard, trying to feel his heartbeat, he couldn't... no heartbeat. He was dead.

But he was also alive!

His mind gasped, though there was no sound coming over his lips. Everything was suddenly coming toward him and he couldn't move. He was trapped, unable to run, unable to cry, unable to...

Will woke with a start, his eyes flying open, staring into the darkness. For a fleeting moment he was close to panicking as he couldn't see anything but the blackness, then his eyes adjusted and he made out the faint shapes all around him. He heard sounds, though dimmed through the walls and the partially open window.

He inhaled deeply, trying to banish the nightmare, but its memory stuck to him. It hadn't been the worst of his collection of accumulated nightmares lately, but it had been bad enough. Holding up a hand, Lennox studied it in the twilight of the room.

Five fingers.

Skin.

Finger nails.

He curled it into a fist, feeling his fingers move.

He drew the finger of one hand over the skin of the other, watched the lines that formed on his skin, as they created squares and rectangles, circles and more; like taking a computer board schematic and transferring it onto his skin. When he pushed against his skin it seemed to break, flow apart, disappear, then reform somewhere else. All over his body.

Tattoos flitted over the tanned skin, teasing him with the knowledge of what had happened. No scars had remained but these… runes and other things. Runes that had once been on the Allspark. Ancient writing, a cosmic heritage.

He still felt all the same. He felt touch. Heat and cold. He was sensitive, but it wasn't his body any more. Not really. Ratchet had mentioned something like neural networks. It had sounded like he was talking about his own kind's circuitry, not a human nervous system.

Will's mind was adjusting to the fact that this was not the real him any more, that he was some kind of freak, that he was different.

The former Army Ranger sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He didn't feel a difference in either his limbs or how his body worked -- only when he looked at them and then the difference hit him with a bang. It was like being partially cut off from the world, to feel less than the average human.

Will snorted.

He had stopped being fully human when that shard had speared him.

Rubbing his eyes he grabbed for his pants, pulled them on, then added a shirt and shoes and padded out of the living area. Everything was dark, except Ratchet's lab area, where the medic was puttering away over something. Lennox had no idea where the others were, but he was thankful for the silence.

Walking out into the night he felt concrete turn to sand under his feet.

It was a nice night. No clouds, the stars were out, and the darkness was like a comfortable blanket. It was a bit cooler than he had expected, but Will didn't care about minor discomforts. He chose a concrete block and sat down, gazing out over the dark airstrip.

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He didn't notice the tall, dark mech standing just inside the hangar, blue optics watching him. Lennox was simply lost in thought, trying not to think too much, unable to switch it off completely.

Only when the sun started to rise did he leave his sitting spot and he discovered the silent watcher.

"Hey," he greeted Ironhide quietly.

"Hey," was the equally quiet reply.

The optics held a dozen questions, but Lennox couldn't answer any of them right now. He didn't know how he felt himself. It was all still too new, too much.

They walked back inside in silence.

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Lennox jogged past the base and aimed for the abandoned airfield where longer stretches of uninterrupted space were available. His body was wired, sensors hidden under his sweat suit and he knew every movement was transmitted to the lab and recorded.

He had adjusted to his new body much quicker than he had thought it might be possible. He wasn't freaking when he thought about the changes any more, he had grown used to the glyphs, and he was growing used to people staring at him. His own team was used to a lot of weirdness, but even they drew the line at seeing their commanding officer with runes flowing over his skin. Not that they were his team anyway. Not any more. He had been put on indefinite sick leave.

Lennox snorted. Right. Sick leave. He wasn't sick! He wasn't different from before.

Well, not much.

He had the Allspark shard inside him and it did strange things to his organic body.

The first meeting with John Keller had gone well, more or less. Of course Keller had been briefed on the situation. Of course he had seen images of the changes. Still, seeing it in person… he had stared like the rest of them, though he had hidden it better. Banachek had been there, too. Both had talked with Lennox for a while, then matters were final: he was no longer part of the Army. His status as Major had been turned inactive and he was looking at early retirement with a full pension.

Wonderful.

Lennox jogged past the old side hangar and then turned back toward the base.

No, he wasn't really all that different aside from the shard. He still felt tired, he felt muscles aching, he felt the air in his lungs. He slept, he needed food, he had to use the shower and the toilet. 

That his skin was different, reacted differently. It had tattoos running like living things over it… well, that was not normal. It didn't hurt. It didn't really feel like anything. Like looking at some birth mark. No pain, no tingling, no nothing.

Birth mark.

Will snorted to himself as he ran the next mile. It was a birth mark, sure. He had been born as a hybrid that moment. He should have died, but the Allspark had stopped that. Why, was anyone's guess. For all the time the mechs had studied their sacred cube, they hadn't turned up with a lot of answers. Well, mostly nothing. A few theories, some tiny revelations, but nothing concrete. Nothing that told Ratchet what the hell had happened to the one human who had been unlucky enough to be in the way of the Allspark shard flying across the room.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

When he returned, Lennox went straight to the lab where he was already expected by Ratchet. Will removed the sensory equipment and placed it into Ratchet's hand. The mech's scanners swept over him and it made his skin tingle, but otherwise there was no averse reaction.

"Thanks for the test run, Will."

"You're welcome. Need anything else?"

"No. I'll be going through the data now. I'll let you know if I need more samples."

Samples. Fun. He felt like one big experiment.

Lennox just nodded and waved, then walked off. Maybe Ironhide was somewhere and in the mood for some time away from the base. Lennox sure was.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

There was no waking up.

Not a real waking anyway.

One moment there was nothing, the next he was conscious. No in-between phase, no confusion. He was... online.

What the hell had happened? Why was he here? Why had he been… asleep? Unconscious?

Lennox was confused, but on a different level. He knew what was around him, he heard it all.

Soft voices, both human and robot.

He actually felt something as well.

Cold metal under his fingers...

He opened his eyes and instead of being blinded by the light he adjusted to it.

He turned his head. Someone stepped into his view as he was about to say something and he identified Ratchet.

"Will? How do you feel?"

Lennox frowned. "Okay," he said slowly. "No different... maybe a bit more, uhm, sensitive. But otherwise, just fine. What happened?"

Ratchet nodded. "Good. I will run a check on the whole system now that you are awake."

"Ratchet? What the hell happened?"

"Ironhide called. You underwent some kind of… episode and lost consciousness."

"Episode?" Lennox frowned.

"You and Ironhide were running a battle game, or so he told me. He shouldn't have strained your systems, Will. We still don't know what happened to you and something like this should have been under supervision."

The frown deepened. "I was under supervision. Ironhide was there."

Ratchet met his angry eyes calmly. "No offence to Ironhide, but he is not a medically trained mech. Your condition is still widely unknown and the results from my tests are inconclusive as to what has happened to you…"

"No offence to you, Ratchet, but that's been a fact for months now! I'm okay, okay? If something happens, it happens. You can't just lock me up and wait for me to blip! I have a life!"

"Will.."

He slipped off the examination bed and caught his fall easily. Somehow he wasn't surprised. A lot wasn't surprising any more. His body was… changing.

"I know, I know. Allspark inside me. Cool. I'm living with this and so should you! I don't need you as my constant baby-sitter."

Ratchet lowered himself to be more on eyelevel, then unfolded what looked like a Cybertronian-style mirror from his forearm. "Look," he only said quietly.

Will followed the 'order' and froze. "Oh. My. God…" he stammered.

Strangely metallic looking skin, faintly silver. Runes covering his… naked?... form. They flowed lazily over his arms and chest, ornate and mysterious, slowing down until he looked like someone had body-painted the Allspark pattern on him. Will splayed his hands over his chest, running palms over the skin, feeling no different than before but looking… so totally weird.

And his eyes… were blue.

"W-what…?"

"That's what you looked like when Ironhide brought you in. My scans can't penetrate you. It's like trying to pierce the surface of the Allspark."

Ratchet sounded almost in awe and Lennox felt something inside him gnash its teeth in anger. He wasn't some mysterious cosmic cube on legs!

"Ironhide said you were training. He was teaching you how to evade enemy fire, but suddenly you changed… shape… and collapsed."

Will closed his eyes and tried to remember. He only drew a complete blank.

"Now what?" he asked tonelessly.

"Now we see if it is permanent."

Oh fuck…

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

He did change back. It took the rest of the day and only when his emotions calmed down did his appearance normalize. Ratchet found it intriguing, Lennox was simply unnerved. Enough to take a longer time out.

His men, former men, he corrected himself, had kept out of his way, and even Epps had only visited briefly. Lennox had seen it in his friend's eyes that the skin freaked him. Badly. Looking at himself had only drawn moderate reactions. He was more fascinated than close to a nervous breakdown. He felt good, almost fantastic, he was alive and still had two arms and legs, a nose and eyes. He could feel and talk and think… he just appeared to be covered in spray paint from another planet. But even when he reverted back, the runes stayed. They had become a constant companion.

Lennox packed a military issue back pack with everything an Army Ranger needed to rough it for a few days, took one of the jeeps, told Epps to keep an eye on things, and left. Optimus Prime didn't even try to hold him back and whatever the Autobot leader had told Ratchet, the medic didn't either.

Being on his own put a few things into perspective. Setting up his tent, cooking gear and starting a controlled camp fire was rather soothing on his nerves. Not even the single rune that was lazily whirling around his wrist changed that. 

Will sat down on the ground and watched the fire for a while, then raised the hand with the rune. It was actually quite calming and the rune was… nice. He had no idea what it meant, but it wasn't some freaky tattoo. He touched it with the finger of the other hand and it seemed to twist around the digit, then tear free and dive back into the depth of his skin.

Wow.

°°° °°° °°°

As the sun set, Lennox had found his calm. It had always worked quickly. Out in Qatar he hadn't had camping spots, but there had been places where an hour meant the world. Out here, the hour was longer, the situation was different. There was no rush, no danger. Just himself and the Allspark.

Lennox chuckled.

A soft beep alerted him to an incoming call. Will picked up his com unit and smiled as he saw the ID.

"Hey," he greeted the caller.

"Lennox," Ironhide rumbled. "Just checking."

"I'm fine, Mom."

Ironhide huffed. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need some time-out."

Get in touch with my new self. Gawd, he sounded like one of those esoterics.

"Alone?"

Now there was a blatantly obvious undercurrent in that one word. Lennox shook his head with fond exasperation. He scanned the darkness and thought he could make out a dark lump not far away.

"You here?" he wanted to know.

"Would you want me to be?"

"Damn, Ironhide, don't go all shrink on me, okay? You out there?"

There was a low rumble coming from the distance, then the unmistakable sound of a transformation. Blue optics shone out of the darkness and the heavy steps sent little tremors through the ground.

Ironhide looked down at him, then lowered himself into a sitting position.

"Now you're following me? You my baby-sitter for the night?" Lennox asked, feeling rather tired, and it had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

"No."

"So Ratchet didn't send you to keep an eye on the precious Allspark carrier?" There was more acid in his voice than he wanted to, but things were coming out that had been boiling inside of him.

"No," Ironhide repeated, optics narrowing. "Ratchet's not my commanding officer, Will. Neither are you in custody."

"I feel like it. Like some rogue experiment from Sector Seven."

The mech rumbled, sounding like an angry cat.

"I don't even know if I'm human any more," Lennox muttered.

The optics regarded him silently. Ironhide was almost merging with the darkness, only a few of the lighter metal parts reflecting the meagre light. The huge mech shifted a little and Will had known him long enough to recognize Ironhide when he was uncomfortable with a topic. He just shook his head with a derisive laugh and got up.

"Forget it. Wrong topic." One hand waved erratically. "You have no idea what this means, being a mechanoid and all. You probably think I'm the next best thing to finding the Allspark. I AM the Allspark for all you care! I'm this damned piece of cosmic debris that landed on my planet and started an avalanche of events! I'm your most revered object! Ratchet treats me like I'm about to spew up sparks and turn something into a transforming robot! If you guys had the means you'd probably take me to Cybertron and wait for me to revive your planet, right?! I'm not! I don't want to be! I told Optimus and I'm telling you!"

Will furiously rounded on the weapons specialist who hadn't said a single word so far. He was only watching. He flung out his arms, breathing hard.

"You know what? Maybe the changes get me to a point where I want to be just that: an object! Because I'm still changing! Because I'm no longer human! I'm a fucking freak!"

A huge hand suddenly snatched him, almost knocking the wind out of him. Lennox was lifted eye-level and Ironhide regarded him solemnly.

"You are human, Will Lennox. Never say you aren't."

"I'm half Allspark! Maybe more!"

"No."

"How about you ask Ratchet to work on your scanners then? Because they aren't working correctly!"

Lennox tried to jump off the hand, but Ironhide folded his thumb toward his palm, pinning him gently.

"I'm not big on philosophy," the mech said gravely. "I'm not big on psych pep talk. All I know is that being human is more than what your body tells you you are. Sam is still human, right?"

"That's different!"

Lennox pushed at the thumb. Runes flitted over his skin and he hissed in anger at the blatantly obvious signs of his changes. He slumped back against the fingers behind him.

"You are human, Will," Ironhide repeated. "And I don't revere you. You're my friend, shard or no shard. I also don't think you have the power to bring my planet back to life. Cybertron is dying or dead. I accepted that. Of course I wish I could change that fact. I can't. I can only fight for this world, for your people. What happened to you… I regret I wasn't able to protect you. I will protect you now, though."

"From myself?" Lennox said quietly.

"If I have to."

Will rested his hands against the thumb pinning him down. His eyes were on the runes. 

"Can you read this?" he asked and raised a hand.

"No. It looks like the ancient texts, but few of us really studied them."

"You guys don't just download things like that?"

"Why don't you download other languages?" Ironhide asked in return. "Or flight manuals? How to operate a nuclear fusion reactor? Fly a space ship?"

"Because we don't download," was the exasperated reply. "It takes time to study all that."

"And for us it takes up processor space. It would be clotting my systems. It's knowledge I don't need. Like the scientist never needed to know how to take apart, clean out and put together a Hyperion Class gun."

Lennox sighed. "Okay. Understood. And you never downloaded psychology courses, huh?"

"No. No need."

"Right."

Ironhide leaned in closer, the blue optics intense. "You are not the Allspark, Will Lennox. You are human. My friend."

"A freak."

"Different," the mech corrected him. He raised the thumb and let Lennox sit up.

"How different am I to your sensors?"

Ironhide regarded him thoughtfully. "Depends. When you're pissed off or don't want to be scanned, you can block us. Right now…? I can easily scan you. You appear human."

"Block you, huh? Cool."

That got Lennox a chuckle. "It has Ratchet thrown in a loop."

Ironhide lowered him back to the ground and Lennox slid off the palm. He was human. To many. Just not to himself. Not really. His life had changed dramatically and nothing on this Earth could explain it. Not even something of Cybertron. He was stumping two very different cultures with his existence.

Great.

"Will?"

"Hm?"

"Stop thinking about what you might be," Ironhide said softly. "Be who you are."

"Sounds deep."

"Keeps you alive in battle. No mech survives on illusions or fantasies. You can only use your potential and go from there. Learn about your skills. Develop what you are."

"You volunteering?"

Ironhide chuckled. "Training you? I'll kick your ass, Lennox."

"We'll see," Will laughed. "I might just kick yours."

"My pleasure." Blue optics sparked with amusement.

Lennox lay onto the sleeping back, staring into the night sky. He didn't feel cold. He wondered if it was something else about him that had changed.

°°° °°° °°° °°° 

Ironhide watched his friend fall asleep and his scanners ran over the prone human form. Human. Still very much human. Will Lennox was an organic and therefore not a mechanoid or even what humans called a cyborg. Whatever he looked like on the outside, the systems underneath the changed appearance were the same.

Now that Lennox was relaxing, sleeping, scanners were able to penetrate deeply. He could probably learn to shield himself against these invasions in time. A lot would probably change in time.

Ironhide swore to himself that he would be there. He hadn't been able to prevent the accident, but maybe he could be more of a protector now. Will would skin him alive, as the humans said, if he found out about that particular thought.

And then kick his ass.

Ironhide smiled briefly to himself, then settled back for the night. Keeping his scanners on Will, as well as on the surrounding landscape – it paid to be vigilant – he let himself fall into a light recharge mode.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°  
Okay! claps hands together 'Nother one done. Off to the next ;)


	4. Cipher

TITLE: Cipher  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: thanks to okamimyrrhibis

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

He had brought his affairs into order. Insurance policies, for example. He had had a private life insurance. The sum had gone to Sarah. As had the benefits from the Army. Will had also talked long and hard with Banachek to insure his wife was receiving at least a widow's pension. They might have been divorced, but he wanted his family seen taken care of. So Sarah was now the beneficiary of forty-five percent of his pension.

Sam had helped with the little things like cancelling his private cell phone contract, his rental agreement for the apartment he had had outside the base. Banachek's men had called all kinds of people and within two months it was as if Will Lennox had never been there. No credit cards, no account, nothing. He had no shopping discount cards, no memberships, no registration on any mailing lists. It was eerie. His driver's license had been invalidated, he had his own death certificate, and his passport was no longer his own. It belonged to Major William Lennox, deceased.

His new cell phone was Army issue, black ops so to speak. It wasn't registered to his name. Will Lennox didn't exist. Not even when looking behind the codes that protected the phone files did he reappear. It was too dangerous. His credit card had the same safety measures. Not that he would use it a lot. Everything he needed was provided through military channels.

Of course he had a new driver's license. He was still Will Lennox, but he was suddenly thirty-five again. Okay, he could pull that off. He hadn't changed in that regard. Police investigations should he be stopped and his license checked would come up with a perfect driving record. No military connection, though. Ironhide was still registered to his name. The license plate, that was, not the mech himself.

Will looked around his new apartment, which looked like some nifty loft in an old hangar – at least the latter was correct. Sam was envious, which had made Lennox laugh.

All in all he had started to spend a lot more time with the younger man. They had suddenly even more in common. With Sam now being officially employed by the US government and working at the base, he was around more or less constantly. Looking into a similar place to stay permanently, the two men had taken strolls across the abandoned base.

"That looks okay," Sam remarked and nodded at the smaller hangar.

It had been used for storage and the structure looked rather intact. Will inspected it more closely, then shrugged.

"Whole lotta work," he remarked.

"I think the guys might enjoy helping. I know Bumblebee's been going on about helping with renovations. It's large enough for him to stand in."

That much was true. Water, electricity, everything Sam would need, was easily installed by connecting the hangar to the already existing sewer system. Ironhide would have fun setting up electronics and security, and connecting Sam to the main computer. There was even a lower level, a small basement, to use.

"So, how are you doing?" Sam asked and sat down on an overturned metal oil drum.

Will raised an eyebrow behind his sun glasses. "Great. For a dead guy, that is."

The younger man smiled a little. "I figure it's hard, huh? I mean, I tried to think what I would do in your situation…"

"You are in my situation, kid."

"Nope. I'm technopathic. I can hide it. I didn't have to die."

"It was my choice, Sam. To protect my family."

"From yourself?"

"Yes. How can I ever go and see my daughter again? This," he held up his arms, turning the upper sides outward, "is always visible."

The glyphs were not easy to hide. They were everywhere. The runes made no exceptions. His face was like some weird billboard sometimes. There was a certain aestheticism to it all. It didn't scar him like a burn victim, but it was visible. People stared. They looked at those eerily beautiful markings and didn't know what to think.

"I know. I understand, too." Sam looked sad. "This sucks."

"A lot."

Lennox sprawled down next to Sam, looking at the dusty place in the middle of the desert that was their home. He glanced at Sam and found the technopath giving him a closer look.

Scanning, he mused, then smirked.

"And? Still feeling human?"

Sam blushed a little. "Yeah. Sorry. Just… checking."

"Hey, no problem. I'm actually reassured." Lennox watched the runes lazily swirl around his index finger, then disappear. "This used to unnerve me," he finally said.

"No any more?"

"It's still… strange. But I look at those things every day. It's not like some birth mark you can cover up. They're on my face, on my hands… you grow used to it. It's no longer so distracting."

"The one on your neck… it's staying?"

Lennox shrugged. "Who knows? It's been like that for weeks now."

"Has anyone ever tried to read what they say?"

"Ironhide's been hinting at some things. Some is old Cybertronian, some Allspark code, some I don't know. I don't come with a handbook," he joked.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "We make quite a pair, don't we?"

"We do?" Lennox raised his brows.

It got him a grin. "I got hit by the Allspark's energy discharge, you got hit by the Allspark itself. We both survived. We both have people who care about us. We both had to make changes in our lives to adjust. Just be glad it's Ironhide training you instead of Barricade. I think Ironhide would flip completely if he ever offered."

Lennox laughed freely. "I doubt Barricade would."

"Don't be too sure. He's intrigued by your mimicry skills."

"He told you?"

"He didn't have to."

Ah, Lennox thought. Technopathy at its most mysterious. Not only did Sam manage uplinks to all mechs, he had a very close and intimate connection to Bumblebee, and he could easily link to Barricade for some reason. Aside from Jazz, only Sam seemed completely at ease around the former Decepticon.

"So, how are things with Bumblebee?" he asked casually.

Sam stared at him as if he had asked about the porn collection in his basement or something. His eyes grew a little wider and there was a faint blush of color.

"Uhm, okay."

Lennox grinned. He didn't know what exactly had happened between the technopath and the Autobot, but it appeared it was coming close to what Jazz had with Barricade, just with a twist. Sam had no spark and he was human. Lennox had become aware of the close bond between the teenager and the machine life form way back in Mission City. It had been like something intense had passed between the two, something born out of fear, the need to survive, and a recognition between them. From then on, Bumblebee had been at Sam's side, no matter what.

Years later, Sam had his engineer's degree, had become a technopath, Mikaela had dumped him, and the bonds of friendship had deepened into something human language and imagination couldn't describe.

"It's not like we're dating," Sam muttered, waving a distracted hand. "I mean, Bee's not some human girl and I never thought of him as something like that and we're friends and he's my guardian and…"

Will laughed and squeezed his friend's arm. "Whoa, kid, slow down. I'm not the lady's father. What you two have is… special, right? Since the beginning. You're closer to him because of your abilities than ever. I think it's nice. To have someone accept you so completely, know you, never judge you."

Sam's eyes narrowed a little as he studied Lennox's face and Will wondered how many runes were rushing over it.

"I think the mechs' version of relationships is cleaner than ours," the former Army Ranger added into the silence. "No messy stuff, no marriage, no divorce. Must be nice to be together just because you like someone, not because your body wants to jump someone's bones because of some stupid biological imperative."

"I loved Mikaela," Sam said softly.

"I never said you didn't, Sam. Sarah is… was my life. I still love her. Of course I do." Lennox shook his head ruefully. "We split up because of all the secrets and lies. Mikaela knew them. You didn't have to hide that. She knows about the technopathy, too. I can never tell my wife or my daughter. I made the choice to die to protect them from all that…"

"You never thought about telling them?" Sam wanted to know.

"Try convincing the brass."

"If they had agreed?"

Will frowned. Expose his wife and daughter to this world? Endanger them? But what if he didn't tell them, and someone harmed them because of Lennox's involvement with the Autobots?

"Water under the bridge," he murmured.

A bridge he had burned.

Drawing himself out of those dark thoughts, he looked at his friend again. "So, how's that working out without the biological imperative?" he teased, grinning.

Sam blushed again. "Will… It's not… I mean…"

"Hey, just wondering. I know teenage hormones. I can still remember, y'know. Despite my old age."

Sam snorted and grimaced, then shrugged. "It's hard to explain. What it feels like. Touching something so… alien. Throughout training with Barricade I got distracted by the spark bond. It's what got us both into trouble several times. Spark bonds to me are so tempting, such utter beauty. It's hard to describe. Like looking at those Hubble shots of faraway galaxies maybe. You're drawn to it, but you know you can never touch it."

"You can touch Bumblebee."

"Yes."

No further explanation. Lennox smiled softly. He knew that what those two shared, coming from two so very different cultures, from different planets, was unique. It had developed over time, had gotten closer and closer. No one would suspect it at first. Sam's pats against Bumblebee's armor in robot or car mode seemed natural. Them hanging out together was a given. Bumblebee being protective could be seen as his duty as a guardian.

The technopathy had enabled Sam to be closer than any human could ever be to a mechanoid. It was something that helped them both express emotions no one could put into words. They portrayed an easy friendship to the outside world, but a small group knew there was more. The Autobots did, as did Lennox. It was nice to know that some things worked out, that there was a kind of happiness there. His own life had had far and few good things in it lately.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

They walked back in silence after a while and Sam excused himself to go over some of his work again. Will smiled to himself. As a 'consultant' he had had little to do as of late. Epps and the team were out doing simulations. So there was no chance of a friendly game of video battle either.

A beep startled him. He dug out his cell phone and rolled his eyes as he saw the ID.

"You telepathic now?" he asked instead of a greeting.

"I can see the runes flashing from the other side of the base," came the grumble. "If you feel bored, I have some work."

Will chuckled. "Taking apart some new weapons system?"

"Testing a new weapons system." Ironhide sounded almost too happy.

Happy Ironhide was dangerous. The mech lived for weapons it seemed. In the time he had known Ironhide, Lennox had learned a lot about Cybertronian military grade weaponry, and the mech himself.

"As long as you don't take pot shots at me," he sighed and closed his cell.

He walked around the huge above-ground hangar and met up with the black mech on the other side. If Cybertronians could bounce on the non-existent balls of their feet, Ironhide would be doing so. He was extremely hyper, hefting a big gun that looked rather intimidating and dangerous.

"Okay, so whatcha gonna blow up?" Lennox drawled.

Ironhide grinned.

Will started to laugh and shook his head. "Okay, big guy, let's roll."

Ironhide transformed, the weapon disappearing somewhere Lennox didn't even want to ponder, and he hopped into the cab. Shooting targets with Ironhide was always distracting enough to forget time and the world.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Will sat on the warm hood of the black Topkick, legs stretched out in front of him, back against the windscreen.

He didn't want to go back to the base. He wanted to stay here as long as possible, look at the peaceful landscape – with its scars from Ironhide's weapons practice. But night was falling and Ironhide would want to go back and work on fine-tuning his latest baby.

There was little to nothing for Will to do back there. Just have people give him sideways looks. It hurt. It hurt more than he had ever wanted to confess before. Sam had it easy; he wasn't marked.

"Ironhide?" he broke the mutual, companionable silence between them.

"Yes?"

"You told me you have no idea what the writing on me is."

"Yes."

"You lied."

A rumble passed through the Topkick.

"You recognize some, right? I noticed the looks. You can read some of those runes. It's not all ancient cosmic gibberish."

A hum went through the metal body underneath him. "Yes," the mech finally confessed.

"Tell me what it says."

Another hum and prolonged silence. Suddenly the vehicle form shifted and Will gave a yell of surprise. Before he could even think about trying to cushion his fall, he was caught in metal hands.

"Geez! Don't DO that!" he exclaimed.

Ironhide didn't look apologetic – much. The blue optics glowed with a smile. He kept Will sitting in one hand, the other carefully touching the softer human skin. Runes swirled around the area.

"That is my name," the weapons specialist said calmly. "My Cybertronian name. When one of us touches you, the runes display the individual's name. Like a recognition circuit would display a code."

"Uh…"

That sounded… weird. Will looked at the strangely beautiful writing. So that was Ironhide's name? He had seen the characters before. It made sense now.

"The writing on your shoulder, running down your back is ancient text from our earliest books. Like your culture's historic scripts."

"So I got something like the Magna Charta on my right shoulder?"

"Older, more like…" Ironhide seemed to access his systems, "religious texts."

"What?! I'm a walking bible textbook?"

"No. We have history texts, of the earliest times of our creation, before records were kept. These are recollections from back when Cybertron was created."

"Once upon a time?"

Ironhide smiled. "In a way."

His finger tips brushed over Will's neck. "The permanent glyphs are the name of your planet in our language. It's like your origin, where you come from, who created you."

"Family tree."

"No, more. It's your actual origin as a species, as life." Ironhide seemed to have trouble translating what he wanted to say, what he saw. "It's like the runes we bear. It's a sign of who we are, where we came from, what we saw. It's us. It's individual, given to us at birth. Deep inside our protoforms are the basic programs that tell us who and what we truly are, where are our home it. It's there when the Allspark creates a spark."

"And because I carry the Allspark, I now have this too?"

Ironhide shrugged. "I'm not a philosopher. I never could relate to the soft sciences. We had people who devoted their whole existence to deciphering the Allspark. I couldn't even tell you if the shard contained only a fragment of the Allspark or if all fragments are the individual whole."

"Sam said he can feel it as a whole. Felt it, I mean." Because it was gone now, had merged with Lennox.

"This one," Ironhide drew his attention back to the runes and following a line of lazily whirling glyphs, "is ancient Cybertronian for protection. I saw one on your chest that said 'binding'."

Lennox swallowed and tried not to pull his hand away, hide it. It was of no use anyway. His face was a display, too.

"There are many words I recognize," the black mech went on. "Your face usually has spirit, awakening and touch on it. The rest I cannot read. One… I think in your language it would be 'humanity'."

Will ran shaky fingers through his hair.

"Will?"

"I'm okay. Fine. Just… it's still a lot to digest. Especially about having whole text passages or ancient scrolls of something on my body."

Not to mention what he had discovered a few days ago when he had stood naked in front of a full length mirror. The Allspark cube had had parallel lines, some a bit wavy, some straight. Those had appeared on his lower back, running down his butt and thinning out around his thighs. It was freaky.

"I wish I knew what this was all about," he whispered after a while. "Why did it happen? Why did that fragment dissolve? Why me?"

Ironhide regarded him silently for a while. "I think there was no higher reason," he finally replied. "If it had been Sam or Epps, the same would have happened. Wrong place, wrong time."

"Yeah. And now I'm walking around with your cube's writing all over me and having a hard time. And don't tell me it has battle potential, because it hasn't!"

"I won't. What it did though, was to hide the last remains of the Allspark, Will," Ironhide said, voice so serious it made Lennox shiver. "Where the fragment still gave off tiny blips, you are now blanketing everything."

"You want to tell me it's using me as what? A cover?"

Horrible thoughts wormed their way into his mind. Like the scene from the first Alien movie, with the creature bursting forth from its victim's stomach. His own stomach clenched and he felt like throwing up.

Good gawd, no… Was that thing growing inside him? Gaining strength? Waiting to leave his body again, killing him in turn?

"Will!"

Eyes the color of pure blue ice snapped open and Ironhide rocked back, making a noise that was a mixture of surprise and shock. Will almost fell off the mech's hand and only Ironhide's reflexes kept him from a big, ugly bruise.

"Will! Snap out of it!"

He grabbed the thumb that was securing him to the palm, using it as an anchor. His breath was coming in ragged gasps.

"What's going on? What's wrong? Are you in pain? Are you hurt?" Ironhide demanded.

"No. No, I'm okay. It's just… you said… what the hell is all this?!" Lennox finally exploded and pushed at the finger.

Ironhide let him go, probably aware that the human needed to move. Will slid to the ground, shaky legs refusing to lock immediately. What was wrong with him? What was going on inside his body? He had survived war! He hadn't broken down in Qatar or in Mission City, or any other assignment before that!

"I'm some kind of living camouflage!" he yelled in fury. "It's using me, right? And when the time comes, when I'm no longer of any use, I'll be dead, right? It's hiding itself!"  
Ironhide watched him looking uncomfortable with the explosion of temper and emotions. 

"There is nothing of the shard left inside you," he finally told the shaking human. "I doubt the Allspark can use human tissue to recreate itself."

"So where did all that alien metal go? I don't have it! It can't have simply disappeared into thin air!"

"We don't understand it," the mech confessed. "We never have. All its abilities… they are a mystery."

"So I'm the new mystery, right?"

The eyes were still glowing blue and the runes had gone from lazily flowing to resting prominently on his exposed skin.

"Humans are generally a mystery," Ironhide remarked dryly.

Lennox gave a laugh that sounded like a desperate cough. He slumped down onto the ground, fingers clenching into his hair, eyes shut.

"I'm so screwed, Ironhide. So utterly screwed. One way or another."

"Your change occurred only a few weeks ago," the weapons specialist told him. "You need time. Your species might be adaptable, but there is a limit and you have surpassed it. Sam needed years."

"Oh, thanks for that pep talk," was the sarcastic reply. "And Sam's a different matter altogether. He's not some cosmic glow worm on legs! No one has any idea what's next in this!"

"But you are alive. In my book, survival means you can start again. You still exist."

Lennox laughed humorlessly. Alien cultures, alien thoughts. Of course it as true. He had survived a potentially fatal accident and he would adapt, but it was hard. So very, very hard. For the first time he could appreciate what Sam had gone through each day. At least Will wasn't doubling over because of sentient machines overloading his brain, and he wasn't short-circuiting electronic devices in turn either. That was the good side. Sam's good side was that his change wasn't broadcast all over, twenty-four/seven.

"Do you require some time away?"

"Where would I go?" he asked resignedly.

"You expressed the wish to explore the old Hoover Dam facilities before."

"Banachek will probably flip."

Ironhide grinned. "I think Prime can convince him."

Lennox sighed and flopped back, staring up at his so much larger companion. "Why not? I think some time away from my recent past might help."

"Do you regret relieving yourself of your command?"

"No, not really. I know the dangers. I know I can't expect the upper brass to just ignore what happened. I know that my condition will make command even more difficult. It was the right thing to do, the honorable thing." He smiled darkly at that. "But honor aside, I feel like hell leaving my career behind. I feel like betraying myself, my parents, everyone. I proved I was ready to be in command!"

Ironhide leaned closer. "You were. And you are still a worthy commander. You are a warrior, Will Lennox. That will never change."

"And now I'm Prime's new recruit?" he teased.

Ironhide rumbled. "In a way."

"Oh well. I could have ended up working some security or night watch job." Lennox raised a hand and splayed his fingers against the sky. "This… will take a little more time. And working with you or the others distracts me from just staring at my skin. As for the Hoover Dam base: sure. I'm ready to go. Anything to take my mind off myself."

Ironhide rose and dust billowed around him. "I'll tell Prime to make arrangements. Might be a nice trip."

Lennox waited for him to transform and climbed into the cab. Yes, it would be a distraction; a welcome distraction. He was actually looking forward to it.


	5. Echoes

TITLE: Echoes  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: thanks to okamimyrrhibis

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With nothing much to do all day but be Ratchet's guinea pig – not his favorite choice – or play assistant to Ironhide's weaponry experiments – only fun when things got blown up – Will Lennox had started to read up on his Cybertronian history. It wasn't so much boredom but the fact that he had become part of them so much by now, he wanted to know. His best friend was a huge alien robot and while Ironhide had no trouble downloading what he needed to know, Will had to ask, read up on it, or scrounge through data files that left him light-headed and in need of a box of aspirin.

Sam was a true Cybertron buff and he had even started to actively try and learn the language. It was easy for the kid since he only had to uplink to Bumblebee, apparently. Instant messenger, so to speak. He could read and write Cybertronian, but not speak it. Will was at a loss on every level. For Lennox it was a bit more complicated. He was no technopath and he had to do it the hard way.

"I can't download everything either," Sam had told him one night when they had met over a friendly game of chess. "Even the language download only helps me read and write. I can't speak it or understand what they're saying for now. Hearing and reading is completely different. Like French. That sucked in school."

Will understood, but he would have loved to be able to read the glyphs on his body for himself by now. Not that Sam was able to translate any more than Ironhide. Some were too ancient and those old languages were only in the main computer, downloaded from individual files. Ratchet was a tome of knowledge and he voluntarily gave Will brief lessons, then left him with massive amounts of data to go through. The only competent source of information was the main computer on the Ark, which contained at least some more rudimentary data, but it was inaccessible.

At least it passed the time. And it wasn't boring. Some files read like a science fiction novel.

So former Army Ranger Will Lennox turned into a history buff. He learned about the creation of Cybertron as the old scrolls told about it, the theories, the mysteries, even the beliefs. He wondered about Primus and the Covenant, about all the stories that surrounded the figures of the past which no one knew had ever really existed or had been made up.

He read about the peaceful existence of all mechs, about political and military structures, about explorations, about their science, and their wars.

But most of all he was looking into everything that concerned the Allspark. He knew Ratchet had read it all when trying to solve the mystery that was Will Lennox, but this was different to Will. He finally read it with his own eyes. He was that mystery, he was the Allspark, for all intents and purposes, even though he had no inkling about possible powers.

And it was incredible.

He pulled files from Sector Seven, stared for hours at the images of the cube that had been hidden under the Hoover Dam, tried to will his hybrid body to recognize something. But with the glyphs had come no knowledge. His brain was still his own. His memories contained nothing of an alien origin.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked himself, not expecting an answer.

The Allspark wasn't a sentient entity that communicated with him. It was nothing at all, just a shard of the whole, now absorbed inside him throughout whatever means. There was no medical explanation for it.

"Hey, Will, whatcha doin'?"

The lazy drawl had him look up and he smiled briefly at Jazz.

"Catching up on my ancient Cybertronian."

The specialist studied the files visible on screen. "Heavy stuff, man."

"I want to understand what this means." Lennox raised a hand and waved it a little. The runes were brightly visible.

"Some of that stuff is Allsparks etchings, Will. Even we don't know what it says. And the cube was always a mystery. It's like some cosmic code, a friend of mine once told me. We never understood it either."

Lennox sighed. "I know, I know. At least I'm getting the hang of Cybertronian writing. It also helps to understand your planet when it comes to this Allspark stuff."

A shrug. "You're not the cube."

"I know that. I keep telling that to some of you."

"Like Ratchet?" the Solstice teased, optics alight with mischief.

"Yeah."

"Don't mind Ratchet. When he's on a mission, he's on a mission. It'll settle when the mystery wears off. Like in a millennia or two."

Will groaned, then caught the grin. "Get out!" he muttered.

Jazz chuckled and did just that, but not without a mock salute.

Will returned to his studies and downloaded what he wanted to work with outside the base on his modified iPod. The little gadget could now store several dozen times more than the manufacturer had ever thought possible, thanks to Ratchet, and it was a valuable tool for Lennox. Like an audio book, the files were now stored and he could listen to the history of a planet he had never seen before. That the iPod also allowed video projection was another plus. Ratchet had really outdone himself. Sam had one, too. They came in handy.

A millennia or two, echoed through his head.

Had he inherited that of the Allspark, too? So far he had not felt any different in that regard, but he had just hit forty, so nothing exceptional in that regard. It might get tricky when he turned eighty and still looked forty.

Fun.

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By the end of the following week, Lennox had finished translating some of the more frequent runes. Like Ironhide said they formed simple words. Why he had 'honor', 'warrior' and 'spirit' on his forearms was anyone's guess. The writing scrolling over one shoulder, and which Ironhide told him were ancient texts, changed now and then. The runes grew less frequent when he was in Protoform, and those visible then were completely different. Those were only Allspark glyphs.

No one could explain why. No one had any inkling as to what the Allspark had done to him.

The fact that he displayed the names of the mechs that touched him changed and became more mysterious. Ironhide's name was almost invisible around his wrist, like a delicate bracelet. The mech in question didn't comment, but there was a strange expression in his optics when he saw it.

Will decided not to ask for now.

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The visit to the Hoover Dam facility was something of a huge event, Lennox mused. Security was even higher than at the President's visit and none of his steps were ever without supervision. The damage the structure had received throughout the Decepticon attack and later Megatron's flight had been chalked up to a terrorist attack.

Since the shut-down, no one had really come here. A few workers to break down machines and carry out whatever was still salvageable. Most of it was beyond repair anyway. Data files had been transferred, the rooms had been locked, and now it was an empty, cavernous room.

A place where the Allspark had been for decades.

Whatever Will hoped to find, he had no idea if it was really here.

Walking through the dusty debris, boots crunching gravel and metal underneath, he wondered what it must have been like for those who had laid eyes on the Allspark all those decades ago. He and his men had only seen the finished product decades later, had had little time to really process what they were looking at.

He hadn't come here alone. Ironhide was his constant shadow and Jazz had volunteered to come along, too. He was curious. It meant that Barricade was probably near-by as well, though Lennox hadn't seen him.

The old catwalk and the two gigantic cranes that had surrounded the immense cube were still standing there like some weird piece of giant art. There were metal tubes, wires, shards of glass, giant spot lights, tanks of whatever contents, and more. A huge factory building without its prime prize. The cube had decreased size at Bumblebee's command and nothing else had been affected. Will still remembered that moment. It had been incredible to watch, so far out of this world…

Lennox started to explore. It was a massive place, too large to look at every nook and cranny in just a day, but he was mostly interested in the place where the Allspark had been for such a long time. He kept an eye on the runes on his body, which were appearing only moderately so far.

Laid back glyphs, he thought with dark humor.

He wondered about residual radiation and finally turned to Jazz, who was never far behind him. Ironhide had taken up a watcher's post near the exit. The human security detail had fanned out.

"Can you pick up any residual Allspark radiation?" Lennox asked out loud.

Jazz scanned, then shrugged. "A little. Very, very faint. It was more pronounced near the labs where they used the energy to experiment."

Will shuddered at that. He had witnessed the brief life and violent death of the Nokia.

Standing in the middle of the empty spot where the cube had been, he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling so far above. Millions of tons of water were above them. The perfect cover.

He looked at himself and found both his wrists encircled in runes, snaking over his hand, around his thumb, running along his palm and disappearing once more. His left hand had a line of tiny writing down toward and along his pinky. They weren't really moving, more like pulsing almost imperceptibly in place.

Jazz's optics focused in on the writing and he seemed to frown.

"What?" Will asked quietly.

"Those are the first words of the creation scroll, the oldest knowledge we have and which every Cybertronian knows inside out. It's how we believe our world came to be."

"Oh."

There he went being a walking bible again, Will thought with resignation. He hated those moments. He wasn't an overly religious man and this freaked him out. The runes disappeared and single symbols took their place. Will recognized them immediately. Cosmic code. Gibberish. Never translated.

"Maybe I'm reacting to that last bit of energy here," he muttered.

"Maybe."

He continued to walk, going deeper and deeper into the cavern. It was cool down here. Dark and cool. It was a nice break from the desert. The ceiling was covered in concrete, forming a half-dome. It was going another mile into the rock, then ended.

Here it was cool and quiet, and mostly dark. Lennox felt gentle vibrations all around him. The last energy traces of the Allspark. He could feel them. Closing his eyes he followed the particles, seeing them in his mind's eye…

…_as part of what he had been before – before he had been just a shard, before he had merged with the human. He felt his old power, the strength and the limitless life energy within. He felt himself touching everything, giving life. He seemed to drift, become more, soaking in the energies of before._

Echoes.

Ancient and recent echoes.

The whole planet seemed to be filled with them, concentrating in this cave deep underneath the dam that kept his presence a secret.

Suddenly there was Cybertron. And he was there. In the middle. Space was all around him. A wormhole swallowed him.

He was hurtling through space.

Earth. A new planet. He crashed. He remained lost. He watched the planet evolve. He was buried under water and rock. He was lost again.

Contact.

Flares of energy, a human life force touching him. Explosions of energy. He gave life, however briefly, with violent force. He touched the human life, changed it forever.

And then he went up in a brilliant blaze of limitless energy. It surged through him with such force, Will almost couldn't breathe. He felt himself fly apart, become more, become less, be all and nothing. He felt himself tearing through a spark, a spark he had created, extinguishing it, and then he was no more.

Just a small part now. Tiny compared to what he had been.

Still alive.

Pulsing.

Waiting…

"Will!"

Lennox's eyes snapped open. His lungs filled with air and he almost sobbed in relief that he was human, had these lungs. For a moment he was disoriented, unable to understand where he was, why he felt so small and vulnerable, then he became aware of the mechanoid next to him.

"Jazz?" he rasped, head swimming.

"Man, you're freaking me out!" the specialist exclaimed.

"What happened?"

He felt woozy, with knees like jelly, and when he raised one hand to touch his head he noticed the changes. His skin had turned the gray-silver-gold-metallic of the Allspark, the runes deepening as if engraved. That meant his eyes had the ice blue optic color now, too.

Fuck.

Jazz had knelt down, looking worried. "You were suddenly very distant, something started to glow and the runes began to race like crazy over your skin. And then you looked like that. You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Damn. He had lost control. Because of the Allspark energy remnants. Taking a deep breath Will tried to calm his nerves, to revert back. Jazz waited, never taking his eyes off him, and finally he looked more human. Still with runes, but more human.

"Energy signatures?" Jazz asked.

"Yeah. I wasn't really aware of them until… well, until now. And then it was overwhelming."

Heavy steps announced the arrival of Ironhide who looked none too happy. Will tried to say something, but the large hand picking him up stopped them. He was raised to Ironhide's eye-level and closely inspected.

"You changed," the mech said. "And my scanners show trace energy all around you."

"Seems like my Allspark part felt right at home," Lennox said with a sigh. "It was weird."

Jazz snorted. "Downright freaky."

"Welcome to my life."

The silver Autobot grinned.

"We should leave," Ironhide announced. "They're getting twitchy back there and I don't like this place."

Neither did Will any more. It felt like a prison cell. And whatever he had felt before, it was now gone, absorbed, somewhere inside him. The cave was just a cave now. Dark and full of bad echoes. He shivered a little as one touched him. The death of so many innocent machines created by Sector Seven. Without the blanket of the Allspark energy, these memories now rose to the surface of this place.

"Let's go," he said harshly.

He had witnessed the death of the Nokiabot and it had touched something inside him at the time. He had witnessed his men getting killed by a metal scorpion and a gigantic robot. Still, the hatred had not been transferred to the little Nokia. It hadn't been evil.

Now it was a ghost, like so many. It resided here as an echo. Will couldn't differentiate between the individuals; he felt the pain of them all like a sledge-hammer between the eyes.

"Will?" Ironhide rumbled as he winced a little.

"I'm okay. I just want to leave."

Ironhide set him down, aware that Will didn't feel like getting carried, and they walked back to the main tunnel. The Autobots transformed and Will quickly got into the Topkick, then they drove off.

No one stopped them.

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Lennox had dropped off to sleep on the way back and Ironhide had simply kept a close optic on his friend. The runes were rather pronounced and he could read some of them. They were in Cybertronian. Strangely enough they were file names. Like Will had picked up a data file with the names and now the runes were displaying them. Ironhide stored that information.

Will moved restlessly, then muttered something. His hands twitched in his sleep and Ironhide didn't like the lines on the human's face. He had learned a lot about humans in the past years and that expression was almost painful.

"Will," he said softly.

There was a sharp intake of breath and another involuntary movement.

"Lennox!"

Brown eyes snapped open. A blue light was in their depths. It was a pinpoint, intense and startling. Ironhide felt his worry multiply. He sent a message to Jazz to go on ahead; he needed some alone-time to talk to Lennox. Or just be there.

"'hide?" the human stammered, blinking. The blue light stayed, only losing a little in intensity.

"Yes. You were dreaming."

"Oh." Lennox scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the seat. "Damn."

"What happened down there?" Ironhide asked.

"I don't really know… or can explain. It was… weird. I could feel the Allspark's presence, that it had been there, and then I was there as well. I lived its life, so to speak." Lennox shook his head. "So strange. And then I woke out of my stupor… it was gone. The energy was no longer there. The cave felt empty."

Ironhide was silent, just listening. He was tempted to scan, but he had learned to recognize when Will was on the defensive – like right now – and his scans would avail to nothing.

"But there were echoes. Of what Sector Seven had done. What it had used the Allspark for." He bumped his head against the headrest several times as if it could dislodge the feelings. "I'm not a technopath," Lennox said, almost to himself. "I shouldn't feel this. But it's like the Allspark can sense all it created. I can sense it now. It was so… senseless. All those deaths… no spark, no true birth, just coming online and caged in and afraid and so terrified of everything."

He shivered again and Ironhide sent a soft hum through his cab. He had discovered some time ago that it served almost like a touch for humans. Especially distraught humans. He could sympathize with what Lennox felt. Had felt.

Will smiled sadly.

"Seems like I absorbed the energy, Ironhide. What was left inside. It felt like the Allspark was simply waiting for it."

"And more."

"Huh?"

"Your body is showing file names. At least what I could see."

Lennox blinked. "The runes?"

"Yes. Hands, arms and face. There might be more."

"Is that the hint to get naked?" the human chuckled, though it sounded forced. Will was under a lot of stress and no military training had prepared him for that.

Ironhide rumbled, which made Lennox smile even more. He stripped off his shirt and Ironhide found the complete list running over his right shoulder. It was pulsing gently.

"Any idea?" Will asked.

"Not yet, but I will look into it. At first glance it looks like something from your own world."

"Sector Seven files?"

"Possible."

Lennox redressed, looking at his almost excessively marked hands. They were a mirror of his upheaval.

"Do you want to go back to the base or somewhere else?" Ironhide suddenly asked.

"Where could I go?" came the resigned sigh. "Even a beer is out of the question."

"Do you require alcohol?" the mech asked quizzically.

His friend laughed. "Require, no. But it helps to forget for a while."

Ironhide was silent, contemplating the statement. He knew the effect of alcohol on humans, that it numbed the senses for a while

"Forget it," Lennox said into the silence. "Let's go back to the base. I think Epps has some beer stashed away and I really need one right now."

They silently continued on the way back to the base. Ironhide watched Lennox stare out the window, apparently lost in thought. No one could help the hybrid with this, even if the mech wished he could.

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That evening Will emptied several beers with Epps in Epps' private quarters. Lennox didn't get drunk. It had grown harder and harder to get drunk on alcohol ever since his change. It took some really heavy stuff to even get him tipsy.

Fuck. He hated his change at those times.

While Epps had fallen asleep and would probably regret the evening, Will had walked through the quiet base, the alcohol processing through his system with no ill effects on him at all. It was no great surprise that he found Ironhide outside.

"Got it out of your system?" the weapons specialist rumbled.

He smiled dimly. "I guess."

"Good."

And that was it.

Will remained up till dawn, not the least bit tired. When life began to stir in the base, he returned inside to start coffee.

Epps would sure as hell need some.

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fin for this one


	6. Distraction

TITLE: Distraction  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
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He should have said no. He should have told Sam thanks, but no thanks when the younger man had invited him over for a reunion dinner. It was a bad idea to walk around like a living billboard in the middle of a town like Tranquility.

Not that he was walking very far. Just from the car to the nice looking home of the Witwicky family. 

So he could do this.

There was no one around and he wasn't glowing in the dark.

Lennox slid out of the driver's seat of the silver Pontiac Solstice and gave Jazz a thankful pat on the roof. Ironhide was off somewhere on a mission with Ratchet and Prime, looking into a signal they had picked up which Optimus fervently hoped was one of their own. It was down in South America, of all places, and how those three were going to blend in was anyone's guess. Some of Epps' unit had gone along. According to Ironhide, camouflage would be adjusted to the environment, whatever that meant.

So Jazz had volunteered to drive Lennox, which was preferable to Barricade, though the former Decepticon wasn't too bad to be around. Whether he would play taxi for Will was another matter. Probably not.

"Gimme a call," Jazz now said.

"You'll be around?" Will didn't know why that surprised him.

"Yeah. We'll be at the drive-in theater." There was a smirk in the voice. "Something gets blown up."

So Barricade was close by.

"Movie date?" Lennox chuckled.

"Yep. Have fun, Will."

"You, too."

He stepped away from the car and Jazz pulled back out onto the street. Lennox watched him disappear, then turned to the Witwicky home. He walked up to the door and steeled himself.

Lennox had chosen a long-sleeved, white shirt, jeans, boots, and was wearing a jacket where the cuffs of the sleeves were long enough to slide halfway down his hand. He hadn't added the gloves because that made him look like he was contagious. Still, he felt exposed.

"Okay, here goes."

He rang the bell and waited. When the door opened, Ron Witwicky greeted him like an old family friend he hadn't seen in ages. So much was at least true: they hadn't seen each other in over a year. Will watched the other man's eyes briefly glance over his face, taking in the runes, before he was ushered inside with warm words, a firm handshake and the offer for beer.

The beer was interrupted by a loud, "Will!"

And Judy Witwicky hugged the living daylights out of him.

"It's so good to see you! My, you look wonderful!"

_I do?_ Will wondered silently. _I'm covered in cosmic code…_

"Ron's set up the barbecue," she went on, taking one arm and pulling him along. "Mikaela arrived just a little while ago. She and Sam are already outside. So how have you been, Will?"

_I think it's obvious_, was on his lips, but Lennox just smiled politely. 

"I'm getting used to the changes."

Ron appeared and held out a bottle of beer. "Here you go."

Will gratefully took it.

"Sam told us what happened," the older man went on. "He said there was this accident and you were in the way of the last piece of the Allspark."

Lennox nodded. "It hit me. I survived. Now I look like this."

Both nodded. Judy squeezed his arm.

"All that counts is that you're alive and well, Will. We were so worried when Sam told us."

"Thanks."

There was barking from outside, then Sam's voice, and Ron muttered something about steaks, then hurried outside to where the barbecue had been set up.

"Come on. Mikaela's been waiting to see you again, too." Judy gave him an encouraging smile. "We're family, Will," she added as he hesitated a little too much. "What happened to you hasn't changed you in any way that really matters. You're still Will Lennox."

"With a few modifications."

Her eyes were firm, the smile warm. "There's nothing wrong with being different."

Lennox almost laughed out loud. So he just smiled and followed his host into the garden.

Mikaela hugged him the moment they were outside and Will was slightly surprised. The young woman smiled brilliantly at him.

"It's so good to see old friends again," she told him.

"You look good," he greeted her.

Another brilliant smile. He knew she was curious about the runes. There was no missing them in his face and on his hands. He knew there would be questions, but whatever anyone was thinking about, it was interrupted by Ron announcing that orders would be taken now.

Will chose a seat and leaned back, letting the family atmosphere wash over him. For the first time in months he felt himself starting to unwind a little.

It was when he had a huge steak on his platter and another beer replacing the empty one that something inside him finally unknotted. It unknotted enough for him to take off the jacket, but he left it at that. For all his current status of relaxation, he wasn't ready to show more than he had to.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Sam couldn't deny that Mikaela had grown into a very attractive woman. She still wore her hair long, she had developed quite a figure, and she looked like someone who spent a lot of time outside.

Starting a conversation had been easy. They hadn't parted with anything bad between them. They were still good friends and he had kept up emailing her at least twice a week. Mikaela knew about his technopathy, every little development, about base life, about Will's accident. She had been shocked, worried, close to taking the next bus and coming here, but Sam had told her to stay put.

Now she had met Lennox for the first time since the accident and Sam had read in her eyes what an impact that had been.

"He's okay?" she now asked as they sat a little away from Sam's parents and the former Army Ranger.

"Yeah. Mostly. Things are still weird and I know how it is when you keep discovering new things about yourself. His are more visible."

Mikaela nodded. They hadn't talked about it throughout dinner, but she had been so curious.

"You should talk to him. I mean, he's our friend."

"I know. I don't care what he looks like." She winked at Sam and added, "He's still as hot as before."

Sam burst out laughing and Mikaela joined him.

"Talking about hot," she went on, giving him a wink, "I saw Trent the other day. He had some chick on his arm. Didn't look happy."

"Who? Trent or the poor woman?"

She grinned. "Trent. I thought he had moved to LA?"

"Thought so, too. After the whole mess Barricade created…"

Another nod. "Trent messed with a lot of people, but I think when he tried to mess with you in a bad way, it sealed his fate. I never thought Barricade would do something like this for anyone but Jazz."

It was an old topic, almost nine years old. Trent had hired some goons to rough Sam up, but it had gotten out of hand. They would probably have done more than some roughing; Sam could have died. Barricade had saved him, much to Sam's shock. He hadn't been a technopath back then and had held no special meaning for anyone but Bumblebee. Barricade had claimed it had been boredom. Today Sam knew better. He knew enough about the former Decepticon to be a threat to the mech's bad boy image, he mused.

Their conversation drifted off to school days, swapping stories on who had gone where and had amounted to what. Sam hadn't heard from Miles in weeks, but the last time he had contacted his childhood friend Miles had been happily working in one of the casinos in Las Vegas.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Lennox found himself relaxing more and more. Maybe it was the beer, but he doubted it. Alcohol no longer had an intoxicating effect on him – which made it hard to get drunk for any reason. It might also be the food, which had been plenty and really good. Or it was the company, which was the best he'd had in ages.

Judy had gone inside to clean up Mojo, who had ended up with a bottle full of sauce on him. No one had any idea how it had happened, only that there had been a crash, then a sauce-covered Chihuahua.

Sam and Mikaela were talking. Lennox glanced at his young friend and had to smile.

From lovers to best friends, he mused.

Mikaela had grown into a very attractive young woman. She still lived in LA and it showed from the tan. She worked with her father in a car repair shop, which was no great surprise. They both looked happy to see each other again and while Sam seemed to appreciate the sight, he was no longer helplessly drooling over the beautiful young woman.

"Thanks for the invite, Ron," he now addressed his host, who was sitting next to him.

Ron had a bottle himself, was leaning back in the lawn chair, and he looked pleased with himself. Now he smiled.

"Sam said you need to get out."

Will laughed. "He did? I get out plenty."

"Desert war tactics training isn't 'getting out', Major."

"Will," he said. "The Major has retired."

Ron chuckled. "I heard. Too bad. The military can be a bitch in that regard, hmm?"

"It was my decision. As long as I'm at the base I can be who I am. Try looking like this in Washington, San Francisco or elsewhere." He gestured with one hand at himself. "I can't just switch it off. Wish I could."

Ron's eyes were on him, serious and contemplative. They hadn't really talked about Will's very obvious changes all evening. Maybe skimmed the surface of the topic, but there had been so much else, it hadn't really fit – aside from asking the obvious question straight: why do you look like a tattoo parlor accident?

"Ask," Will now said quietly. "I don't break down any more," he added with a grin.

Ron snorted. "Tough Army guy?"

"No. Even us grunts are only human and you can believe me, this freaked me out a lot when it happened. I should have died, but I survived without a scar and just moderate blood loss. Whatever the Allspark was, it was amazing. I know the mechs treated it like a religious object and now I understand a little bit why."

Lennox raised one hand and looked at the string of glyphs he had come to recognize. He didn't give the fact that Ironhide's name seemed to be more or less permanently on his wrist much thought any more. It was just a fact.

"They don't hurt?" Ron asked.

"No. I don't feel a thing. Even when I touch them or when others touch me. They're just there. Ratchet tried to scan them and nothing showed up. Sometimes even the scans won't get through because I can block them."

Ron laughed a little. "Like Sam?"

Seven years of having a son who was technopathic had made the topic of rather eccentric abilities the norm around the Witwicky household.

"No. I'm not technopathic. I can't influence the machine as such, I can only make myself off limits." Lennox played with the beer bottle. "Comes in handy. I can also feel them scanning. That itches."

Ron's eyes narrowed a little as he looked at his guest. "You know you don't have to hide underneath all those layers, right? I'm getting heat flashes looking at you, Will."

Lennox glanced at his shirt.

"Consideration is okay," his host added, "but it can't be comfortable. If you want to, take it off."

"You sure?"

"I am," was the calm reply.

Mojo suddenly raced out of the house, barking, looking squeaky clean, and he headed straight for Sam. Sam picked him up and laughed at something Mikaela was saying. Ron shook his head with a fond smile. The Chihuahua was almost ten years old and Judy loved him like another child.

"How do you handle your death?" he asked, not even looking at Will.

Tough question. He was officially dead and he would never be able to see his wife and daughter again. Sarah lived on the East coast now.

"Sorry if it was an inappropriate question," Ron added.

"No. No, it's okay. It's hard, Ron. Really hard. Logically I know that there was no other way. I couldn't be Major Will Lennox any more. I can't hide these changes, unlike Sam, and I have to hide from others. Being here… it's the most freedom I had in a while."

"You're welcome to visit whenever you want, Will."

He looked at Judy, who had come out of the house and had apparently heard the last part.

"Thanks."

"You're still the same man. Nothing has changed," she insisted.

"Aside from the obvious."

She smiled. "Gray makes you look more distinguished."

Lennox stared at her for a moment, then his hand automatically touched his hair. "W-what?"

She laughed and it sounded highly amused. "Don't worry. Not a single one in sight."

Ron smirked and Will sighed. "Point taken," he said.

"And these runes… I think the younger generation would call them hip and cool and very in," she added with a wink.

"The moment they move is when the cool turns into the freaky."

"Has anyone ever translated them?" Ron asked.

"They couldn't decipher the Allspark in all the time they had it," Lennox answered. "Some of glyphs are Cybertronian, but the rest are just… runes. I'm mostly in the dark."

"Some look pretty," Judy remarked, gazing appreciatively at something on Will's face.

He shrugged. Himself, he would give a lot to have them disappear when he wanted them to.

"Anything else change?" Ron asked casually.

Lennox emptied his beer. He contemplated number three for this conversation, then decided to wait. He grabbed a cold Coke out of the cooler instead.

"A lot," he answered quietly. "What did Sam tell you?"

"Actually, not much. He takes 'confidential' seriously." Ron glanced over to his son, who was still talking to Mikaela. They looked very relaxed. "And you don't have to answer the question, Will."

"I don't know if you want to really know."

"We're used to a technopathic son and giant, alien robots," Judy said wryly. 

"There's that," the former Army Ranger agreed. "With me, it's physical changes beyond what's already visible. One thing is that I can change my skin to look like I'm a body model for the Allspark. All metallic looks. The other is a bit more extensive." He hesitated. "I can mimic a Cybertronian protoform."

Judy's mouth opened into an 'o' of surprise. Ron frowned a little.

"Protoform?" he echoed. "Sam told me about it. It's what the mechanoids really look like, right?"

"It's their basic structures before the trans-scan kicks in and adapts their bodies to their environment."

"You change size, too?"

"Yeah. Like the Allspark."

"That's… something," Ron said slowly.

"And you become a robot?" Judy wanted to know.

"No. Underneath the metal skin I'm still very much organic."

"Weird," the older Witwicky muttered.

"You tell me…"

"I don't know if I could have done what you did," Judy said so very seriously. "Giving up everything."

"I had to, Judy. It was the only way. I can't mask what I have become and…" Will stopped, feeling a rush of emotions he had thought he had dealt with. "It's better for all involved," he finished lamely.

Like his wife and daughter. Ex-wife. For Sarah, and his parents, he was dead. Killed in the line of duty in some obscure corner of the world. Will had felt like part of him had really died that day Keller had given him his 'death certificate'. He had been buried with honors, but what was all that for a family who had lost their son? Or a child growing up without her father?

Not that he had seen much of Annabelle in the months before his 'death'. Sarah had moved back with her parents. It hadn't been easy to visit for a few hours. Now all Lennox had were stolen moments when he clicked on the family website. He watched her grow up from afar, already so very grown-up with her nine years. His little lady; his only child.

Judy squeezed his hand in sympathy and he gave her a wan smile. Will wondered if people in witness protection felt as he did. He was cut off from everything he had ever known and ever loved; forever. Because he was dead.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Conversation continued to drift along Lennox's experiences of the past year, what had happened and what might still change for another twenty minutes, then Mikaela and Sam joined them again and Judy went to get the dessert.

Lennox just groaned. Dessert! Well, he also didn't gain any weight any more from excessive food, which was a plus, but he was already close to bursting from steaks and salads. 

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Jazz picked him up a bit past two a.m. The family had moved from the garden into the house at some point, but no one had felt overly tired or inclined to end things. Sam would stay over-night, Mikaela crashing in the guest room. Will had called the Autobot as he had left the Witwicky home. He wanted to walk a little, use the night as cover. Jazz could track him through the cell phone, which he left switched on.

It was a nice night. Cooler than the nights before, some stars out, and there was hardly anyone on the road. Will walked briskly. It had been a nice get-together. He had enjoyed it immensely. Ron had told him to call whenever he felt he needed some time away; he was always welcome. It warmed Will for some reason. He hadn't known these people for very long and they treated him like an old family friend.

Jazz pulled up next to him as he reached a corner. "Hey," he greeted the former Army Ranger. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

The driver's door clicked open. As Will got in he thought he saw a black shadow not far behind Jazz. Barricade.

"Wanna drive?" the Solstice offered.

"Sure."

Lennox had long since stopped wondering why Jazz relented control to him on occasion. Not that they drove a lot together, but sometimes, like now, Jazz let him be in control.

Pulling out onto the street, Will headed out of town, back to the base.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Barricade followed his partner at a distance. He kept his scanners peeled on Jazz and the area, wondering why the Autobot let the human drive.

::Distraction:: Jazz answered when he sent the question. ::Will's disturbed. You can easily see it with the runes all over his body::

Barricade rumbled softly.

He had kept away from the former Army Ranger, watching developments from afar. At first he had been just one of the humans on the base. The commander, sure, but nothing special. His friendship with Ironhide didn't change that status. Barricade didn't relate well to humans, aside from Sam Witwicky, so he didn't even try to get to know Major Lennox.

The accident had spiked Barricade's interest and he had kept close optics on him after that.  
Lennox was not like the other altered human among them, he had concluded after a while. Sam was a technopath and he had become good at what he did. Barricade rarely engaged in excessive training sessions with the young man any more. Instead he watched his daily interaction with the others and how he handled himself.

Lennox had trouble adjusting, too, but it was different for him. He actually looked different. The runes and glyphs running over his skin were intriguing and disturbing at the same time to Barricade.

But he kept back.

That Ironhide hovered around his human friend was a reason, too. While the more massive Autobot had stopped watching every step Barricade made and had accepted him as much as he could, the former Decepticon didn't want to press his luck.

That he could change into a protoform had been astounding, maybe even a little shocking. Barricade had immediately taken notice of the human's battle capacities, just like he had done with Sam. Lennox might not be able to transform, but he was resistant to blasts of a certain strength, which was a big advantage.

::He still has to get used to a lot of things:: Jazz murmured through the com link. ::It takes time::

Barricade didn't comment. The changes within Lennox were huge; even he could confess to that. No one would be able to adjust to becoming what the human had become within a few weeks.

::He lost his family:: Jazz went on, almost talking to himself. ::His parents and his wife and child::

::It was his choice:: Barricade rumbled.

::That doesn't make it easier::

°°° °°° °°° °°°

"You're quiet," Jazz remarked, noting they were taking the long road home.

Lennox seemed to jerk out of some deep thoughts. "Sorry. I'm not good company right now."

"The barbecue wasn't good?"

Will shrugged. "It was actually great. I'm glad Sam kicked my ass into going. I needed to get away."

"What from?" Jazz wanted to know, curious.

"Myself," he answered truthfully.

"Too bad you took yourself with you on this trip."

Will smiled wryly. "It's hard not to."

"When fleeing from yourself you have to know where to run."

Brown eyes lit up with a smile. "You watched too much TV again, Jazz. Sounds like you got stuck on Kung Fu again."

Jazz chuckled. "Kwai Chang Caine has a point most of the times. And I made it to the sequel already," he added.

Lennox leaned back and gave control back to Jazz. He was silent until the Solstice took the next exit. "Sometimes I seem to catch up with myself," he remarked.

"Either run faster or face yourself."

"What if I can't?" he asked calmly.

"Then accept whatever it is that caused the flight in the first place," Jazz answered simply.

"Not that easy."

"What part of yourself do you try to flee from?" Jazz wanted to know, sounding almost neutral.

Lennox inhaled deeply. "My past," he finally said.

"All of it or just one part?"

His human existence? The hybrid part? Everything? Probably something in between, Jazz mused. He knew how problematic the past several months had been for the human. He liked Will a lot and he knew Ironhide was almost like a shadow. Maybe it was the weapons specialist's absence.

Jazz almost chuckled to himself. He had noticed something else, too. A closeness that told the specialist something else was going through Will's mind most likely. He was glad he had spark-bonded with Barricade. There had been no doubt, no hesitation and no questions. Humans were a lot more complicated. Here, in this situation, two alien minds had collided and were trying to cope with everything as best as they had learned from their respective backgrounds.

Hopefully this wouldn't blow up in a spectacular fall-out.

"I'm not sure," Lennox answered after a while.

"Then how do you know what to run from?" Jazz drove his point home.

Because you're running from what your spark tells you is right. Yes, of course, humans had no spark. Will was no longer human, he was a hybrid, and he had no spark, but something inside him reacted. He only had to listen to it.

Lennox smiled weakly. "I think that's the whole problem."

°°° °°° °°° °°°

They were by now outside the city limits and heading into the desert. Barricade kept the same distance throughout the drive, listening to Jazz's softly pulsing spark. Sometimes he received a little murmur of interest when the Solstice watched the runes on the human's body, but mostly everything was quiet. Whatever his partner was talking about with the human, he kept it to himself.

He waited until Jazz had deposited Lennox at the base, then he rolled forward and joined his partner.

"You want to stay," he stated.

"We can't leave the base unguarded."

Simple logic. Barricade settled down on his shocks, ready to stay as long as was necessary. His scanners picked up the presence of their hybrid human and he kept watching.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Will didn't feel tired, but he felt alone for some reason. Aside from Jazz and Barricade, and a few soldiers, no one was around, and of those two, Barricade didn't make for much company. Lennox had nodded at the lone sentry, one of Epps' guys, and made for his living area.

He had enjoyed the barbecue, but it had driven home once more that he had lost his own family. Will walked over to the lonely book shelf that made up most of his wall furniture and picked out a photo album. It had been Sarah's idea at the time, defying all modern technology with its pictures on CDs. She had printed all kinds of photos of Will, herself and of their baby girl, and had made this little memento.

Will smiled sadly as he leafed through it.

The past.

Dead.

His fingers brushed over the last image of them together as a family. It had been taken out at their home, with a spectacular back drop of scenery, and everyone had been laughing happily. Annabelle had been playing with Sarah's hair.

"Damn," he whispered and snapped the album shut.

He had done what had to be done. He had done what was best for all involved. And everyone involved felt the loss.

Pushing the album aside, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. From outside he heard muffled sounds. Probably the team waking up. Will knew he should be sleeping; it had been a long day. Still, he didn't feel like closing his eyes.

In the end he got up and walked into the common room, nodded at one of the soldiers, and got himself coffee. Epps would probably read him the riot act if he caught him looking dead on his feet, but he didn't care. Will noticed Barricade at the entrance of the base, parked almost innocently in the shadows. There was no trace of Jazz.

With a large mug of very black coffee, Will sank into one of the comfortable chairs.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

It was how Epps found him. The former second-in-command grabbed himself a coffee, too, then sat down across from his friend.

"So?" he queried, smiling, though there was little humor in his eyes.

"Too much food, too much to drink," Will said with a forced smile.

Epps glanced at the prominent runes. "And?"

"And too many memories," he added with a sigh.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah."

Epps nodded wordlessly. "What a fucked up world."

Lennox shrugged. "It was my choice."

And he had to live with it.

Epps raised his coffee. "To fucked up choices," he toasted.

Will copied the gesture. "Cheers."


	7. Rush

TITLE: Rush  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: R for content that might be suggestive  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: thanks to okamimyrrhibis

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

They had set up a regular schedule. Ironhide would pick up Will, drive them out to a place where both felt no prying eyes, had no interruptions, and they would train Will's abilities. Unlike Sam, who was a technopath and could influence machine life, even uplink to the mechanoids, Lennox's changes were more passive. He had runes and glyphs running over his skin, sometimes more prominent, sometimes like faint shadows. A line of runes had taken up a permanent residence running down his neck in a single line, spreading out as they reached his shoulder blades.

What was more active than passive was his ability to change his skin texture. What had started out as an accident had become something he could control: he could deflect harmful attacks. Be it knives, needles or bullets, even laser shots of medium strength. It drained Will and it hurt when it came to Ironhide's gun, as he had found out quite painfully. Especially when it was several volleys.

Ironhide had apologized profusely, had sicced Ratchet on the aching human, and Lennox had gone through a string of examinations with a resigned air to him.

What had developed just lately was his mimicking ability. Ratchet had been beside himself when Will had demonstrated something the Allspark had been able to do: increase and decrease his size. He didn't stay human when he adjusted his size, he started to look like a protoform exoskeleton.

That was what Ironhide insisted they train. Especially handling himself while mimicking a mechanoid's trans-scanned exo-structure.

It was hard, still draining, left Will exhausted. But he kept on training.

Today was a rather rough day. He was tired, his movements sluggish, and the continued shield adaptations had taken a lot out of him. Ironhide was helping him with his agility, with keeping himself under control as he let instinct take over. It was a mixture of hand-to-hand combat and athletics.

Too slow to react, Will was jolted when Ironhide's hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm and had him on the dusty ground. The weight kept him pinned down and the bright blue optics bore into him.

"You're slow, Lennox."

"Yeah," he managed, breathing hard.

Despite all his changes, he was still human and not a machine.

An ache started in his neck and he groaned softly as it pulsed deeper into his brain.

"You okay?"

"Tired," he murmured.

A scan bounced off his shields and he winced a little. "Stop scanning."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's just… draining…"

Ironhide sat back and Will pushed himself into a sitting position as well. He truly ached now. Lennox flexed the hand Ironhide had grabbed, watching the mimicked exo-skeleton move. Runes teased him with their faint image. He rarely saw them when he looked like this and it told him more than anything else that he was dead on his feet.

"Will? Take a time out."

_Huh. Good advice._ He flopped back with a soft groan.

"How's your energy level?" Ironhide asked.

"Huh?"

"Are you low on energon?"

"I'm not a mech, Ironhide. I'm still me underneath this fake."

"It's not a fake," the other contradicted and let his fingers play over the dark exterior. Runes followed his trail. "It's metal skin."

"Not underneath."

Ironhide flipped his wrist a little and reached for Lennox's limp arm. "Let's try this," he remarked.

Will's eyes widened and he sat up abruptly. "What the hell…?"

"We can transfer energy, Will. I can give you a little boost."

"Uh… Ironhide, I'm still organic, remember? It's just the surface."

"And humans convert food into energy." Blue optics gentled a little. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"H-how does this work?"

"All protoforms have an interface unit, allowing access in case of emergency. Like energon transfer. It's easy and painless."

"Uh. Okay."

Ironhide's hand slid gently over the exo-structure. The caps of his fingers opened all of a sudden and he buried them into the depths of the reformative infrastructure.

Lennox tried not to jerk back.

Something warm spread through him, tingling, making him gasp in surprise. It was like a soft charge, like eating sugar and drinking coffee and having an immediate effect.

And then Ironhide removed his hand. Will's reaction was instinctive as he grabbed the retreating hand, fingers curling around the wrist. He was still breathing hard. 

Sugar rush.

Definitely.

Caffeinated sugar high.

Good gawd!

It was like a primal need to hold onto something, to Ironhide, ride out the rush, and finally a last tremor passed through him.

"Hell…" he whispered, exhaling sharply.

"You okay?"

He was holding on to the wrist and only slowly pried open his fingers. "Y-yeah. Is it always like this?"

"You are not a mechanoid, Will. You reacted rather strongly to the small discharge."

"Small?!" It had felt like the best high ever!

Ironhide smirked. "You want more?" he taunted.

Lennox laughed, sounding almost high again. "No way, big guy. No way. That was enough. And thanks. I feel better. Lots better."

It was as if his body had recognized the energy charge as a 'shot' and had 'recharged'. Weird.

"But I'm calling it quits for today."

"We should take a break for a few days," Ironhide conceded. "We upped every time we trained and it overwhelmed you. You are only human after all." Optics glowed with a teasing light.

"Huh. Right. Bastard." Lennox got to his feet, bouncing on his exo-skeletal balls. He felt like he could take on the world. "You're just afraid I might kick your ass now."

"Try, kid. Just try."

Will chuckled and shook his head. "And get whacked around just 'cause you want to prove a point? No thanks."

"Coward."

"No, reasonable. I learned that early on in my military training, Ironhide."

Ironhide clapped him on the shoulder, fingers briefly squeezing it. "Let's go home then."

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Will lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think of how the energon transfer had felt. The tingle had been maddeningly brief, like a rush that shouldn't end. Like taking a rollercoaster ride and plunging deep, only to stop and realize it was over. Adrenaline high. Sugar rush. Whatever it was called, it had been damn good.

Not like sex. No. Like the afterglow. Just without the messy but pleasurable act before that.

Lennox pushed that thought aside. Mechanoids had no sex. The very concept was alien to them. Spark bonds were the closest thing they had to what humans called 'physical intimacy', and it was more intimate than any human could ever understand. 

Alien cultures, he mused. They were so different from each other. Then again, sometimes Ironhide was as human as the next guy he knew.

_I'm getting off on something as natural to a mech as breathing is to us. __Shit._

He knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.


	8. Complications

TITLE: Complications  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: definitely R! (NC-17 would imply seeing naughty bits... none here.)  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

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My attempt at Will/Ironhide without using holoforms, bots-suddenly-human or whatever else has been tried.  
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"You are sexually frustrated."

Lennox could only stare. "W-what?!" he finally exclaimed. "I'm not!"

"Sexual frustration describes the condition in which a person is in a state of agitation, stress, anxiety due to prolonged sexual inactivity and/or sexual dissatisfaction," Ironhide quoted from somewhere. "And you are sexually frustrated."

"I'm not! What makes you come up with such a crazy idea?!"

Will could almost feel the pointed look he got, even though his friend was in his vehicle form.

"Just because I don't get laid doesn't mean I'm frustrated!" he added almost defensively, then felt like hitting his head repeatedly on the steering wheel. "Why are we discussing this?" he asked resignedly.

_Why am I discussing my lack of a sexual life with a giant alien mechanoid?_ Lennox added in his mind.

Because that was the bulk of his social contact nowadays. A group of alien visitors, Sam Witwicky, maybe even some of his team, though they had pulled away. Will was becoming too alien himself. He had always been faithful to Sarah and even when they had been separated, his sex life had been rather monogamous. Now he was divorced, had been declared dead by his own government, and he had no more obligations toward faithfulness, but he didn't go out and look for simple pleasures.

He didn't go out at all. Period.

Will groaned softly, clenching his hands around the steering wheel in frustration of another kind.

"Humans seek release. It's a biological imperative," the Autobot now said.

"It's not a must, okay? And even if I were looking for it, which I'm not, we men have found a good companion in our right hand."

He could almost hear the thought processors clicking and whirring. Ironhide was probably looking for reference material.

"And before you go suggesting any kind of activities for me, don't. Just don't."

"I'm only trying to help."

Another groan. "You're not."

Lennox had actually felt no drive to satisfy anything lately. One look at him and any hooker, well-paid or simply desperate for money, would turn tail. And it wasn't like he wanted a hooker. A girl-friend would probably end in a catastrophe, though he would have to go through the whole dating process first to get to the steady girl-friend part. That this would end up in a disaster was a given, too.

A third, but also the hugest problem was the fact that he felt rather… strange when it came to accidental or not so accidental touches while he was training his shape-shifting. Even though he looked like a protoform Cybertronian and his skin deflected gun fire, it was still sensitive on a deeper layer. That one energy transfer from Ironhide had been enough.

Will had felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him when the realization had set in: he had been aroused. On a different level than what he had felt as a human being when Sarah had been in bed with him, but it had been close. A really close match.

So having Ironhide talk about sexual frustration was… not good.

"Can we leave it at 'I'm not'?" he asked.

Ironhide huffed. He didn't believe him and the scan he felt running over him didn't help. Runes and glyphs flared.

Great. Now Ironhide could even see how distracted, pissed off and disturbed he was.

What a way to end the day.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

He should have taken his own advice and not faced Ironhide so soon after the revelation that he reacted to the mech. Will was confused down to his very human soul and when Ironhide had set up another training exercise, he should have said no. Should have lied, found other things to do, something important.

Instead he had said yes.

Treacherous brain!

So when Ironhide managed to once again wipe the floor with him, he should have called it quits sooner.

He hadn't.

And he had ended up in the dust, feeling bruised even though he was in a supposedly mechanoid form, and it didn't help that Ironhide looked rather smug.

Bastard.

Lennox pushed himself up and glared at the taller mechanoid. "Game over," he growled.

"You are distracted today," the weapons specialist remarked and hunkered down. "Are you okay?"

"Don't start, Ironhide, okay? Not a word about any kind of frustration!"

Will pushed up and stumbled, feeling tired and worn. Damn. It was the same feeling as before. He recognized it as being low on energy.

How Ironhide ended up grasping his arm, fingers sinking between the ridges on his forearm, touching connecting tissue, was beyond him. 

Things blurred.

He felt the energon transfer, the rush, his body arched a little and he knew he gasped, maybe even embarrassed himself with a moan. Nerve endings screamed, then things whited out.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Will came around to Ironhide's face very close, the other's hand still buried deep in the shielded forearm of his mimicked form, and the blue optics were bright. Brighter than they had ever been.

Something clicked inside him.

Something terribly unsettling washed over him.

Memories were sketchy, but one was very clear: the rush.

"Oh hell!" he exclaimed and shot to his feet, dislodging the hand.

Ironhide rose more slowly, not saying a word, but he regarded Will with a very intense expression.

Will lost all thought of being a fifteen foot protoform and his 6'4" human frame was alive with cosmic code running all over him.

Panic raced through him.

He had… gotten off. In a mech sense of the way. Not like having sex, but something that could only be compared to that.

Shit. Shitshitshit!

Ironhide had done nothing more than… and he had… and now… Shit! Hell!

Will ran shaky hands through his already tousled hair. He moved away from Ironhide, terribly confused and at a loss as to how to explain this to an alien life form that had no concept of procreation through a rather enjoyable copulation. Ironhide could google orgasm all he wanted, get all kinds of nifty explanations, and he would never truly understand it.

Lennox screwed his eyes shut in humiliation. Good gawd, he had gotten off while mimicking a mech form! How could his day get any worse? There had been no inappropriate touches. He doubted he had the necessary equipment to truly get one up, but the simple touch had been like the best sex ever. A touch to his forearm, for crying out loud! Touching the muscle cable underneath the shield!

"Will."

The dark voice let him flinch and he stared at Ironhide like a trapped animal.

"I… that… Ironhide, I'm sorry. I didn't… this wasn't…"

"I expected it," Ironhide interrupted him.

"What?!"

"I was surprised it hadn't happened the first time."

"WHAT?! You… you expected it? You bastard! You wanted this to happen? What the hell were you thinking?!"

Lennox's anxiety and embarrassment had seamlessly turned into fury. The glyphs reflected it as well. Was this some way for Cybertronians to get off?! Energy transfer to the point of overload?!

Ironhide knelt down, looking a lot more calm and serene than he had any right to be, in Will's eyes.

"I noticed it before I decided to share with you. I was surprised you didn't react sooner."

"Share? Like…? No way!" Will shook his head. "No fucking way! I'm human! I can't share! It's impossible!"

Ironhide smiled. "There are different ways, Will. True sharing can only be achieved by a spark bond. We don't need these bonds to procreate, so relationships are formed through different means. We have friends and comrades and allies. We have commanders and subordinates. We share with those who are like-minded, who we find are a match to what we are ourselves. I found a similar interest in you."

Lennox blinked. He had lost Ironhide somewhere around the first sentence. "I… I'm not…"

Had he somehow made Ironhide think he was… attracted to him? That he was interested in sharing more than a very close friendship? He couldn't be sexually attracted to a giant alien robot! He hadn't had wet dreams or anything! He didn't get the same sensation around Ironhide as he had around a woman.

But he felt something else. It was a sense of rightness, of belonging, of wanting to be here. He had consciously chosen this life. He liked spending time with Ironhide. And when the mech had touched his skin, it had been… there had been… not like he was about to shoot off, but something else. Ever since the accident his life had steadily changed, and now things were more complicated than ever before in his life.

_Fucking Allspark!_ Lennox thought angrily. His emotions were all over the place because of something mechs saw as natural. Will was a hybrid and whatever his feelings were now, they corresponded to what a mechanoid thought was the intent to be closer.

He liked Ironhide. He liked being around him, close to him. Sure, there was something like a common ground for them, an understanding as warriors and soldiers. Sometimes no words were needed, despite them being alien to another.

Double fuck.

"This is too much," he managed. "Damnit, Ironhide! You can't just dump this on me! I don't even understand it! You're attracted to me? I'm not even your own kind!"

"You only need your own kind if you need the offspring to continue your line. We don't."

"So how many interspecies relationships are there?" Lennox asked sarcastically.

Silence.

"None, right? Taking Sam and Bumblebee aside, there's none! How do you know that this is anything at all?"

"You reacted."

Simple as that. Of course he had reacted. He hadn't been able not to. The energy discharge had been… arousing. Will groaned to himself.

"I'm not a mechanoid," he moaned. "I'm human. I mimic you, nothing else! Humans react to electric discharge!"

"Do they always find it arousing?"

"Not when it's several thousand volts, no!" he snapped. "It's deadly. It hurts!"

"Did I hurt you?"

Lennox was close to strangling the black mech. The questions were getting to him.

"You didn't and you know it. Whatever happened, for whatever reason, it felt good, but it can't be! I'm not… sexually attracted to you!"

"Since my kind doesn't have sex…" Ironhide started.

"Oh shut it!"

From Ironhide's reaction Will knew his eyes had started to glow again. Just great.

"Can we go home now?" he asked, feeling mentally exhausted, though his thoughts were racing.

"Of course."

And that was the last that was said between them for that day.

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Lennox spent the next day in his living area, staring at the ceiling, the wall or the computer screen. His mind was whirling with what had happened and he had no idea how to handle it.  
Ironhide had given him something mechs called 'sharing' and while he understood that human sex was totally different, it had felt the same. His very human body had interpreted it correctly and reacted according to his chosen form, the protoform.

Will hadn't had wet dreams of big alien robots in the past years. He hadn't felt like he was about to come in his pants while sitting in Ironhide's cab. He could confess to a rather strong friendship. He trusted the alien robot, he liked his dry sense of humor, his trigger-happy, weapons-obsessed personality. They could sit together for hours and not talk, and it still felt like the best conversation ever.

They were friends. Close friends. He had spent the past years at the base, always with Ironhide… He liked him.

Will shook his head.

And still… would he have reacted if there wasn't some small part that had wanted this? Ironhide didn't strike him as someone to push this on a partner. Sharing was voluntary.

_Hello, subconsciousness? A little help here?_

He hadn't had any sexual contact in the last, oh, millennium, as it felt to him. Ever since his divorce, and even before that, he had been here at the base and there had been no one to interest him.

So now he had found relief with Ironhide?

Damn.

Finally leaving the loft-like structure, Lennox looked for someone, actually the only one, who might be able to help.

He found Sam coming out of Optimus Prime's office and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Got a minute?"

The younger man shrugged. "Sure."

"Coffee?"

"Always."

And so they found themselves sitting outside the hangar, coffee mugs in hand, and Will wondered how to ask the one question, the burning question, without making himself look like some pervert.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

::It happened::

Sam sent a silent question through the link at Bumblebee's remark.

::Ironhide and Will::

::You sure?:: he asked back, astounded.

::Well, something happened. Ironhide's been rather… silent the whole day. And Will keeps to himself. I think something happened and it's something I've been expecting::

::You think he's got feelings for Ironhide?:: Sam wasn't sure he could get that picture into his head.

::Yes::

Plain and simple.

Looking at the former Army Ranger, who was not looking at him at all and instead staring at his coffee, Sam wondered. His own relationship with Bumblebee hadn't been head-over-heels at all. It wasn't even the same he had felt for Mikaela. It wasn't like a human relationship at all, but at least he had the technopathic understanding of the matter. He could feel the pulses from Bee's spark, he had the uplink. Will had nothing of the like.

"Will?" he now asked out loud.

"Hm?"

"You wanted to talk about something?" And how stilted did that sound? Great, he was sixteen again and had a crush on the high school sweetheart.

"Something happened in training yesterday. Actually before that. I was exhausted, Ironhide gave me a jumpstart, so to speak. Something jumped, all right."

Sam blinked. Okay…

"You were in protoform?"

"Yeah."

::We can transfer energy from one to the other if the need arises. Medics do it all the time. They have a surplus of energon on their bodies to keep a wounded mechanoid functioning:: Bumblebee explained helpfully. ::I could do it, too. A small energy charge can go a long way::

::It did with Will:: Sam thought and almost laughed at that.

"Yesterday he did it again. I got off on it, Sam."

Now those were some plain words.

"And?" Sam asked openly.

"And? You're asking 'and'?" Lennox exploded. "Hell, kid, I got off on something shared between machines! I'm human! I'm not attracted to giant robots!"

Will stopped, then ran a palm over his face with a groan.

"That didn't come out right. Sorry. This isn't about you and Bumblebee…"

"No, it's about you and Ironhide. He's your friend, right?"

"Yeah."

"He protects you."

"Kinda."

"And he shared."

"Yes! Okay, he shared, but I'm not…" Lennox stopped, shook his head, and started to pace. "I'm not into kink, all right? I'm not having sex with a robot!"

Sam had to laugh, unable to stop himself. "Will, it's not sex!"

"It damn well felt like it!"

"You weren't even human."

"I'm always human, Sam!" he hissed. "I'm not the Allspark!"

Sam held up his hands as if to ward off the anger. "Didn't say that. But you mimicked an alien form and you reacted like a hybrid, right? I know their understanding of relationships is different from ours, but affection is the same. Ironhide showed his."

"By getting me off?"

"Yes."

The former soldier slumped against the wall. "Great. Alien robot sex then."

"No. Sharing."

"Same thing to me."

"It isn't," Sam contradicted. "Sex is… a lot more physical, but sharing is, too. Just different." He groaned. "That sounds totally strange."

::How can I explain this to him?:: he sent to Bumblebee.

::There's nothing of the like on your planet:: his friend and partner replied. ::Will is trying to understand it in human terms and ends up at biological reproduction. We can receive pleasure from a partner, even one not bonded to us, but the concept is not like yours::

Sam tried to get exactly that across as he said out loud what Bumblebee had told him. Lennox's expression was a mixture of doubt and despair.

"And they don't have genders, Will. Maybe you think of this too much in human terms," he tried something else, something that had occurred to him.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it in the beginning with Bumblebee, too.

"Because I am human," came the growl. "It's all I understand, Sam! I'm not a technopath! I don't look into their minds!"

Sam knew he had a big advantage here. He would probably have been as freaked as Lennox otherwise.

"Well, the question now is: do you want to do it again?" Sam asked openly.

It got him a wide-eyed stare and the runes that Sam had learned to ignore, flared more brightly. While he could read Cybertronian, the ancient glyphs evaded a translation. Still, this was clear.

"I… well… it was nice," Will answered lamely. And he looked embarrassed.

"No harm, no foul, right?"

"Sam, it's not that easy!"

Sam frowned. "Why? You're a free agent. No 'don't ask, don't tell'."

"I doubt it ever applied to robots," came the dry remark.

"See?"

"Sam…" Lennox groaned. "This really isn't easy!"

"I never said so."

"Great," he muttered. "Just fucking great. Just heap the shit on me! Why me? Why not someone else?" He banged his fist against the wall behind him.

There were no easy answers, if there were answers to some of these questions at all. He was in for it now and he had to live with it. Not like Ironhide was fawning over him like some love-struck teen. It was more of a subtle way, something where most of the context was lost in translation and both parties were trying to handle it how they had been raised and taught to.

"Any pointers?" Lennox asked resignedly.

"Nope. I'd say go with the flow, but you need a translator for that, too. Talk to Ironhide is my advice," Sam answered.

"Planning to, believe me."

Will had thought he was past that stage when it came to relationships.

Relationships!

Now he was starting to even think of it as such. Was he attracted to Ironhide on that level? Or was there even a level at all? What was their friendship anyway? What was Ironhide interpreting into it? What was Will reading in the mech? Not much, actually. Ironhide was rather controlled, like Optimus, and it was difficult to discern something from there.

They had to talk. So not Lennox's strong point. 

Birds and bees and giant alien robots. Oh my.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

He caught a hold of Ironhide out in the back hangar two days later. The weapons specialist was tinkering around with something or other, but he had stopped and met the human's eyes without evading.

"We need to talk," Lennox heard himself say the words.

That had always been Sarah's territory. 'We need to talk' stood for 'I'm gonna read you the riot act, William Lennox, and you're going to listen and apologize'. Most of the times he had to because he had been an ass.

Today it meant something different.

"About what happened," he added lamely. "The energy rush."

"Rush?" Ironhide asked, frowning as much as a robot could.

"Please don't tell me it wasn't meant to happen as a rush!" Lennox exclaimed.

Ironhide placed his tools down and looked at the smaller human. "You were quite receptive, Will. I wasn't sure how you would react, but it was a lot more intense than I expected."

He quickly held up a hand. "Don't you even mention sexual frustration, okay?" he demanded.

"Then I won't."

"Ironhide!"

Was that a smirk? Damn, it was a smirk!

"This doesn't happen when I'm human, right?"

Ironhide tilted his head. "I don't know. I wouldn't advise sending electrical currents through you, Will."

"Of course not, idiot! I was talking about…" He stopped and nearly banged his head against the next possible, hard object. "Forget it. Human concept. Human thinking."

"You were thinking about sex," his friend stated.

"Aw, hell, 'hide…"

"You were. I looked into the subject matter and a human body can be stimulated by touch."

The runes swirled around Lennox's arms and he felt himself tense. Great. Birds and bees. Sex versus sharing. Who would win? Place your bets.

His head started to ache.

"Yes, it can," Will ground out. "We're organic. We have nerve cells. They get stimulated by all kinds of things."

"Are you stimulated now?"

"No!"

Could this get even more embarrassing? He wasn't thinking sex with Ironhide. The rush had been intense and great, but he wasn't getting a hard-on thinking about it now. He wasn't about to have wet dreams about a shape-changing GMC truck! Will's mind was unable to come up with the appropriate scenario where this was even remotely possible.

"Listen," Lennox tried to grope for normalcy, "this whole thing… it was incredible. I never felt like this. But I don't feel the rush when I'm myself."  
Blue optics regarded him calmly. Will was reminded how old Ironhide was, how much he had seen. He had probably had his sharings before.

And no, he wasn't jealous! Jealousy came from feeling something, anything, and resenting the rivals. There was nothing to resent and there were no rivals of any kind. Past companions were just that: past. And he wasn't looking for some kind of steady date. No!

But what about feelings? Did he have them? As a human or as a hybrid?

The massive form went down on one knee before him.

"Sharing like this, without a spark bond, is an expression for us," the mech explained. "An expression of what you might call 'affection'. There is really no human equivalent for the Cybertronian term. It can be casual; just once. It can be repeated and still casual. No bond is formed. And it can be solely with one person, still casual, but as you would say 'faithful'…"

Will felt his jaw hit the floor. Good gawd… Hell… shit!

"So you have feelings for me? Beyond a friend?" he stammered.

"I cannot differentiate your terms, Will. Friendship and relationship… you place more value on one or the other. You say that friendship is a term used to denote co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more humans. Relationships are defined by connections between two people. These definitions are very confusing. You can share with a friend, but not be in a relationship, but you can also have relationships among business partners, without a personal connection."

Will sighed. He knew humans were complicated when it came to Cybertronians trying to understand them. He had been raised to understand the difference. How could he explain it to someone who hadn't been on this planet for that long?

"You place a lot of value on the sharing we experienced," Ironhide added. "I never meant to confuse you."

"I am confused. More by the difference between our races," he confessed. "Because I want and need to understand this, and I can't. I have this urge to put what happened into a handy shelf space and be done with it, but it's not like this. Sam understands because he can uplink to you guys."

He raked his hands through his hair.

"I'm not getting this, 'Hide. Not at all. I don't know where I stand!" Lennox stopped, then hissed in frustration. "I… is this casual for you? What do you expect me to be?"

"Everything you already are."

"That's so helpful!" he gnashed. "So if I give you a pat on the hood that's not something of a come-on?"  
"Casual touch is a concept of your world, Will. As you said, you have nerve cells that transmit the touch. Our skin has receptors, but their density varies. Jazz's skin has a microfine sensor net. Mine has the normal array of receptors."

And that left them where? Lennox thought desperately.

"Your touch is transmitted," Ironhide added. "It can never set off a sharing, though."

"Okay. Cool. Fine. It's just the Protoform then."

"Compatibility is not a matter of outside appearances."

Compatibility. It was affection. In a way. Lennox wished he had a way into Ironhide's mind like Sam had. It would make things so much easier!

"We're compatible," he murmured. "Okay. I can handle that."

Ironhide was silent, waiting out Will's thought processes. Lennox in turn felt himself turning the question 'What now?' over and over in his head. Did he want it to happen again? Part of him, a very large part, was enthusiastically nodding its head.

"We take this slow," he finally said. "My pace. This isn't easy for a human to handle, Ironhide."

There was a long silence and the blue optics narrowed a little. Will met them with tension and hope. This was an experiment. A huge, unique experiment. He and Ironhide were compatible, like Sam and Bumblebee. It wasn't sex. It was…something different, something new. Like a friendship with a few perks.

"You are willing to share again?" Ironhide asked finally.

"Yes. I confess I liked the feeling. Maybe because I hadn't gotten any lately. Maybe because of the compatibility. Maybe because I'm part Allspark and that's helping. My mind's just dealing differently than my body. The body loves it, the mind's confused…"

"And you only experience it in your protoform," Ironhide stated.

"I really, really hope so." Because wouldn't it be embarrassing to shoot off as a human because of Ironhide?

"Would you change now?" the weapons specialist asked matter-of-factly.

"Uhm?"

"Will?"

Lennox closed his eyes. Would he? Now? He knew what Ironhide was suggesting and the thought gave him a little thrill. He had told the truth when he had confessed to liking the sharing experience.

"I would," he finally said.

He initiated the change and let his body go with the flow as it increased size and mass, like the Allspark could do. The runes shifted over his skin, disappeared beneath it, and his body underwent a complete metamorphosis. Ice blue optics met Ironhide's.

The more massive and taller mech waited for a moment, then reached out. Will tensed a little, but the touch was careful, almost explorative. The fingers rested on the exo-skeleton, then slid between the strands of solid metal and connected with the muscle tissue of the protoform. The connective tissue wasn't organic in the mechanoids, but Will wasn't like them. His outer shell was metal, but underneath there was himself. Ironhide was touching organic tissue.

The optics reflected that realization, that knowledge, and Will shivered a little. This was so completely new, he was so totally out of his depths. A string of runes flitted over his exo-skeleton, around Ironhide's fingers, like a surreal piece of wrapping or string.

"How do you feel this without me doing the same to you?" Lennox managed, voice a little rough.

"Backwash," Ironhide explained. "My connection to you is both ways. I feel what you feel, your echoes."

Oh gawd…

"Your emotions are alien, but they are received. You feel intensely," Ironhide stated.

"Humans usually do."

"It's addictive," the mech stated, throwing Will in a loop.

Ironhide's finger tips opened and Will felt them connect. It shot tiny rivulets of pleasure through him.

"Each protoform has multiple interface points," Ironhide continued, optics never leaving Will's face. "When we take on our final camouflage form some are very heavily shielded."

Gazing at the bulk of armor on Ironhide, Will guessed his friend had such heavy shielding. And then the world started to wash out as energy trickled through the connection, as everything was just this wild rush that tore him along, gave him a high like nothing else ever had. It was so brief, a single moment, nothing like the encounter between two humans could ever be, however short. For a machine it was incredibly long, but his human mind counted seconds. He thought he felt the limitless energy of everything, of the spark Ironhide shielded inside his body, of the pure power it was. It was beautiful, wonderful, and strangely warm and familiar despite the alienness.

Lennox came down that high, that rush, and realized he still stood there, though on very shaky legs. Nothing had changed. Ironhide's optics had dimmed a little and his grip on Will's arm was tighter.

"Whoa," he whispered.

Ironhide's fingers pulled out of the intimate depths, the tips closing again.

"That was… incredible."

A weak word for something Will had a hard time understanding. The shift back to human was almost automatic as his body required rest, and when his legs finally did give way, he was caught in a gentle hold. Ironhide's optics regarded him quietly.

"I can't be what another human would be," the mech said softly and raised him to his eye level...

"I know."

"This will complicate things for you."

Will shrugged. "I doubt it. I'm not human, Ironhide. Not any more. No other human would get close to me without thinking I'm contagious and I'm not into hooker sex. This… sharing… something inside me… responds. And we all know what's inside me."

Ironhide's thumb rested with gentle pressure against his stomach and Lennox touched it. The runes seemed to coalesce around his fingers.

"I'm kinda trapped between two worlds," Will went on, not looking into the optics watching him closely. "I'm organic, but I can shift to be closer to you guys. Inside me I carry the heritage of the Allspark, but it doesn't show."

"I can accept that," Ironhide told him, voice very serious.

"Because we are compatible?"

"Because you are my friend."

"Thanks, 'hide."

"Can you accept our limitations?" the mech wanted to know.

Because Ironhide was larger. Because there were no affectionate touches, aside from what Will unconsciously did in that regard when Ironhide was in vehicle form. Because there was no physical closeness like there was between human partners. Because there was just that, what they already had. For all its briefness, sharing was more intense than anything he had ever experienced.

Will smiled slightly. "I don't think of it as a limitation," he answered softly. "And we can start experimenting."

Ironhide mirrored the smile. He lowered Lennox back to the ground and Will felt one finger caress his back, then the mech straightened.

"This'll be interesting," Will mused.

"Definitely."

"Thank God I'm dead and don't have to introduce you to the parents," he laughed.

Ironhide's expression was priceless and Lennox just knew that he was accessing his internet link to look up the references. The mechanoid rumbled a little and Will grinned more. He knew this would be complicated. He knew it would need a lot of adjustment from both parties involved.

But it might just be worth it.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Sooooo... there you go. :) Any thoughts?


	9. Passages of Time

**This happens BEFORE Rush and Complications, but was bunny-conceived just after I had posted Rush. Go figure. My bunny suffers from bouts of randomness :)  
**

TITLE: Passages of Time  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

His life had become disjointed. Days blurred into each other and there was no difference between weekdays and weekends any more. If not for the TV program, he might not even realize when the week was truly over, ready to slide into weekend. So Lennox set himself up a schedule.

In the mornings he made his rounds, jogging mile after mile, keeping himself in shape. He used the training facilities inside the base that the unit used, too, for his further work-out. After that it was catching up on daily news, share lunch with the others, maybe play a game of cards if anyone was willing to, chess, or video games.

Close combat training with Ironhide was once a week. Weapons training was the day after that. While Will couldn't transform a weapon out of his arm or any part of his body, Ironhide insisted he should know how to handle theirs. If he handed Lennox a weapon in battle, the hybrid had to know what to do with it.

"Knock the enemy over the head with it?"

It had gotten him an annoyed look and a mutter about Lennox not being much better than young, cocky recruits.

Considering that it took freshly sparked Cybertronians a while to learn all this, Will wasn't too deterred by his lack of progress with the heavy stuff or the way Ironhide managed to have him on the ground in no time.

Ratchet claimed a day of the week, too. Once a week he took general readings and once a month Lennox underwent a complete check. New developments were noted and fussed over. Will felt no different before or after each test, but Ratchet seemed to be fascinated nonetheless.

Some days he went over to help Sam with the remodeling of the old side building, some he dug around the base for handiwork.

Lately, it was a job that kept him busy, where he had his hands full. It was a job where he stopped thinking about being miserable because Ironhide was somewhere in South America, looking for whatnot and being out of contact.

No, he was not missing his friend. He had lived quite fine before alien contact had thrown him for a loop, had changed him physically, had turned him into a freaking hybrid! He could go for a few weeks, even months, without the black mech.

Cleaning out the remote areas of the Autobot base sounded like one of the less desirable jobs and it was. He usually ended up greasy, sweaty, and in need of a good scrubbing. But he felt good; and he didn't think too much about how he had come to depend on Ironhide's presence each day.

There was really not much else to do nowadays. He had lost command of the human unit at the base. He had lost his rank. He had lost his freedom to come and go wherever he wanted to – because of the fucking runes.

Angrily, Will lifted some twisted piece of metal into the container he had hauled here with the help of Epps, who was shaking his head over his former CO's antics.

The runes made him an outcast to normal people, his people. He was human, had been born as one, the youngest son of Ellen and George Lennox. One brother, one sister. Now he was neither-nor. He fit in no world. If the runes would stay out of his face or off his hands, sure, he could go somewhere, have a beer, play pool, watch a movie. But they were everywhere, quite visible, and how could one explain moving tattoos? Answer: not at all. So he spent his time at the base or he went out with Ironhide.

Now his friend was away for who knew how long and Epps could only spare so much time from yelling at the new guys to cheer up his former CO.

What a life.

But it was his life. He had to manage it, and he did it as best as he could.

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It was two months into Ironhide's absence and in the middle of fighting with the plumbing, that Banachek turned up personally at the base. Will got a bad feeling at that and when the man actually told him he wanted to talk to Lennox…alone. Very bad feeling.

"I'm sorry to tell you that your father has passed away," Banachek said solemnly.

Lennox felt like punched in the stomach. "When?" he managed to ask tonelessly, ignoring the painful twist in his insides.

"Three days ago. We didn't get the information until just this morning. I decided to deliver the message personally. I'm sorry, Will."

He nodded. "Yeah… H-how?"

"Heart attack, it seems."

Lennox tried to remember whether he had ever heard of his father having heart problems and failed.

"The burial is tomorrow," Banachek went on. "I thought you'd want to know."

"To do what?" Will asked, sounding almost desperate.

He couldn't go there. He couldn't say good-bye. He could sit here, wallow in memories, regret everything and nothing at all.

His father had been a teacher at the local U, a family man, with a wicked sense of humor. His students had loved him. He had taught math and physics. It was probably where Lennox had gotten his knack for math from. It had been his uncle Jimmy who had been career military, who had had a big impact on Will's decision to join the armed forces, too. That and being named after his great-grandfather, a military hero. His older brother Gene had gone into his own business of computer science, his sister Sue was a teacher, like their father. Last he had heard, Gene lived in Chicago, Sue had just moved somewhere in Iowa.

"We could arrange something," was the vague answer.

"Wrap me up and hide me?" Lennox asked acidly.

"The funeral is held at twelve, in Minot, as a family affair. We can arrange for you to be… around."

They were burying his father at home. Will had grown up in Burlington, just outside Minot, where his parents had lived all their lives. It had been home until he was old enough to join the Army, and after that he had only been back for family occasions.

Emotions welled up inside him and Will fought them down hard.

"How?" he now asked.

"You leave that to me. While you can't show up at the graveside throughout the service," Banachek said, "you can have all the time you want afterwards. I'm sorry, Will. Very sorry."

He nodded. "Yeah." _Whatever_. "I'll be…" He gestured vaguely. "Packing."

And he turned and walked away, leaving Banachek to find his own way out or wherever he wanted to go next.

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That Jazz offered to tag along had come as a surprise. Will knew he was staring at the silver robot, stunned. Of course he was friends with them all, on different levels. Prime was a respected warrior, a commanding officer. They talked sometimes, both aware that the other had shared the same responsibility, and in his active time with the Autobots, Will had spent long hours exchanging stories with the Autobot leader. Ratchet was more interested in him because of scientific reasons, keeping close optics on him. Jazz… well, he was Prime's second in command, very easy to be around, and Will had found him ready to listen should he need an open audio receptor – especially since Ironhide was now away on a mission.

Ironhide himself… Lennox was hard-pressed to explain what was between them. Friendship. Yes, a very intense, trust-filled friendship. Ever since Mission City, where both had fought in different battles, they had come together as a team. Like Bumblebee had Sam as a charge, Ironhide had somehow taken Will under his wing. Not for the same reason, though. Will had learned new fighting skills and techniques, and he had gotten to know their new alien allies. Mission City hadn't been the best first start; Qatar even less.

Now Jazz was offering to accompany him.

"It's in North Dakota!" he finally blurted.

"Hey, I'm small. I fit on the plane," was the easy answer. "And I always wanted to see more of your planet."

"Why?"

"Because it's a fascinating world."

Lennox growled and Jazz smirked, then he grew serious.

"Will, you lost a parent. While I have no concept of parents or off-spring, I understand loss."  
The former Army Ranger felt something inside of him curl up. Yeah, Jazz understood loss. He had lost everything, almost his spark-bonded partner, too. Speaking of which…

"I doubt Banachek will be happy about a Decepticon in the middle of North Dakota."

Jazz grinned. "Cade and I aren't welded together at the hip, Will. He's bitchin' enough about my 'foolish idea' – his words, not mine. I doubt he'd trust your government to fly us anywhere. He thinks they'll push him off halfway across the continent without a parachute."

Will chuckled, true amusement flooding through him for a moment.

"And you'll need wheels, right?" Jazz added pointedly.

"I doubt I have time to cruise." Solemn blue optics looked down at him and Will sighed, surrendering. "Okay. Thanks," he only said.

Jazz nodded wordlessly.

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Banachek didn't throw a fit over the additional passenger. He actually looked like he had expected it. Jazz parked himself in the cargo hold in vehicle form and Lennox spent the short flight gazing out of the window, memories chasing each other. 

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It was a day like every other day. The sun was out, but it wasn't too warm yet. The trees were swaying in the slight breeze that brushed over the silent grounds and touched the group of people dressed in black. Underneath one of the old trees, hidden by the massive trunk and dark shadows, Will Lennox kept his eyes riveted to the grassy ground, listening to the drone of the priest's words with only half an ear. Now and then he looked at the coffin with its flower ornaments and tried to get a clear grasp on his emotions. It was difficult.

He had loved his Dad. There had never been too harsh a fight not to reconcile, even when a younger Will had told his parents he would join the Army; when he had made his career; when he went overseas for months.

_He died thinking I'm dead _, ran through his head over and over.

His family thought he was dead. All of them. They had an empty grave if they wanted to visit, but their son was gone.

Lennox leaned against the tree, tears in his eyes that were hidden behind sunglasses. He was dressed in black, had forgone his uniform because that would have been too obvious. He would have honored his father with it, he knew, would have wanted to be here as the Major, but he was a civilian now. He was no longer the William Lennox who had been raised by this man.

His mother stood next to her remaining children. Will's eyes were riveted to her aged face. He remembered her joy at becoming a grandmother. First Gene, then Sue, then Will's own baby girl. Now she was a widow who had also lost her youngest son.

Gene looked just like their father, Lennox mused. Older than him by a good ten years, grayer, heading for the big five-oh. There was a bald spot, too. Next to him stood their sister Carol. She had cut her hair, Lennox thought dimly. And dyed it a darker maroon. Their respective spouses and family were behind them, the children all so much older and taller than Will last remembered. And Sarah…

He felt his throat constrict even more.

She was here. She and Annabelle. God, she was so big now. Such a big little girl. Will had to hold onto himself not to leave his hiding place and approach.

There were people here, Banachek's men, keeping an eye on him, ready to intervene. Jazz himself had been parked not far away and Will knew his friend was scanning. He could feel it prickle over his skin. The runes were alive, agitated and mobile, reflecting his inner turmoil.

When the priest was done, some friends and family members said a few words, and then it was over. People dispersed, but Lennox stayed. His eyes followed his wife's retreating form, riveted to his former family, and something inside him was ready to break.

Finally there was no one left. Funeral home people were clearing away what wasn't needed and soon the grave would be closed, flowers draped, and by the end of the week it would have a headstone.

Will walked over, steps heavy, emotions overflowing. He stopped in front of the open grave, hands pushed into the pockets of his pants.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered.

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His 'bodyguards' didn't stop Lennox when he got into Jazz. He sat inside the Solstice, hands curled around the steering wheel, staring sightlessly out the windscreen.

"Will?" came the soft query.

"I'm fine," he answered automatically.

He could almost see the skeptical expression.

"Want to drive?" Jazz wanted to know.

"Yeah. Just… yeah." He exhaled sharply. "Damn." His head fell forward and he let it rest against the steering wheel. "Damn."

Jazz remained silently, engine off.

"She was here," Will finally choked. "She and Annabelle and my Mom… God, she's grown. My little girl… She's… and I wasn't… I can never be… there."

Runes flitted over his hands like tiny fireflies.

Will sat back, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Let's go," he said roughly.

"Where to?"

"Just… away. Tell Banachek… I want to drive."

Jazz acknowledged and gave control to Will, who pulled out onto the street and just headed down the road, no specific place or direction in mind. They ended up between Minot and Burlington, in the middle of what looked like unused farm land and pasture. It was wide-spread, an ancient farm house leaning against the wind, its paint long ago stripped by the elements. There was a make-shift fence, a 'property for sale or lease' sign out front where the highway met the road leading to the house.

Lennox smiled dimly.

"My grandfather's place," he said softly. "We came here to play. It was always an adventure."

So many memories.

"Dad's been trying to sell this for years now. First he wanted to keep it. For us. Thought one of us might move here. Now…"

His past. All dead and soon gone.

"Our bodyguards still around?"

"Yes. They're waiting at the airport in Minot."

Lennox nodded. "No chance of driving home, huh?"

Jazz chuckled. "We could try, but I doubt Mr. Banachek would be happy."

Screw that.

But Lennox just nodded again. Instead of driving back, though, he got out and walked toward the ancient building. Jazz followed him with a softly purring engine, still in vehicle form. He wouldn't chance transforming and getting seen.

Will smiled at the old swing on the apple tree, the tree house that looked as ramshackle as the day it had been built by two boys and their grandfather. The old fields lay empty, weeds growing in abandon. The barn had seen better days, was a hazard to enter, and Will just peeked inside. The musty smell was the same as many years ago. There was an old, rusty pick-up parked underneath the hay loft. The tractor had no wheels and the farming instruments were all but gone.

Sitting on the porch of the house, looking out over the fields, Lennox smiled dimly. Jazz was patiently sitting with him. Looking at his marked skin, he found the runes had quieted down. They looked like faint, weird scars now.

"Will?" Jazz finally broke the silence as the sun touched the horizon.

"Banachek asking?"

"Yes. I told him where we are. He said he understands, but…"

"… we need to go," the ex-Army Ranger murmured.

"Yes."

Getting up, dusting off his pants, Lennox walked over to the Solstice. He cast a last look at his childhood memories, then got inside. He left driving to Jazz, just gazing out the windows as the shadows grew longer and longer.

They arrived at the airport as dusk was about to slide into night. The plane lifted off into the night and Will spent the flight in the cargo hold, talking to Jazz, sharing memories, listening to the Autobot's own, and smiling wistfully to himself.

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Ironhide returned three months after the signal from the supposed Autobot had been picked up. He had Ratchet in tow and both looked unhappy.

"We lost the trail," he growled when Will shot him a quizzical look.

"How come?"

"No clue. Slippery bastard. We found the impact point and he made it out alive, was seen here or there, and we even have a pretty good idea on his two alternate modes he's been using, but he evades us. He's moving North, that much we figured, but we lost him somewhere in Mexico. Prime decided to have Jazz look for him next."

Which meant Barricade, too.

"You know he's an Autobot?"

"No. We have a crash site, we have signals that could be both a Con and one of us, and we have the hope that the Cons are either all dead or hiding somewhere." Ironhide rumbled unhappily again. "He's hiding and that doesn't look too good. Optimus has been trying to get in contact with the newcomer and if he can't convince him… who can?"

"Jazz will be spying for him?"

"Yes."

Will smiled. "And you know who's coming along and why."

Another unhappy sound. "Might be for the best," the weapons specialist finally muttered. "If it's a Con, that is."

"What about Barricade defecting again?" Lennox voiced a thought Ironhide had been muttering about ever since Barricade had joined their ranks.

That got him a snort. "Doubt it."

"Oh?" Will gave him a neutral look. "How come?"

"Jazz," was all he got as an answer.

"Didn't stop him the first time."

"The first time he was loyal to Megatron."

"So you believe Barricade now?"

Another rumble. "Let's say I believe that he's too attached to what he has now to give it up again, and the very real possibility of having to face his spark-bonded in battle."

_Wow_, Will thought. _Whoa squared!_

This coming from Ironhide was the closest to the mech saying he saw Barricade as an ally as he had ever come. Not that Lennox believed for a second that Barricade would go back to any arriving Decepticons either. Still… Ironhide had been most vocal about the danger of that happening.

"Yeah," he now muttered. "So you're not going back?" he asked.

Ironhide shook his head. "No."

Something inside Will itched to go out, too, to be useful, to have something else to do. He shifted a little from one foot to the other, but he didn't say anything.

Blue optics narrowed a little. "Will?"

"Nothing." He walked away, thoughts whirling.

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The next few days dragged on. Will felt more balanced now that Ironhide was back, but the idea that he could be out there, helping with something, was on his mind. Ever since his father's death, the visit to his grandfather's old farm, and seeing his family, he felt so much more alone, removed from humanity.

He had a new life, but what to do with it? He couldn't go out or just explore his own country, find places he had never even heard of before, because he stood out like the rune-covered human bill-board he was. Lennox was confined to this place or the inside where people already knew him.

It was driving him crazy at times.

He wasn't a scientist. He was good with math, sure. But he wasn't Sam, who was an engineer and a technopath and damned good with Cybertronian tech stuff. Epps was running the military unit and while Lennox liked to help out, he was no longer part of the command structure. And the desert only offered so much in distraction.

It was right after Ironhide's return that Will decided to catch up on his own bit of Cybertronian tech stuff and immersed himself in what Sam had so easily assimilated in the past years: basic mech anatomy. Being able to mimic them, Lennox concluded that knowing what they actually looked like inside might help him get a handle on those abilities.

It proved to be a ton of new stuff to handle. Just what he needed to keep him from boredom.

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Ironhide found him in Ratchet's lab a week after his return. Ratchet himself hadn't been in for a couple of hours, tinkering around on a new project outside. Will looked up from his reading material.

"Hey," he greeted his friend.

"Jazz radioed," the weapons specialist said.

"They found the new arrival?"

"No. It wasn't about that. He told me what happened."

Will sighed and put away the stack of paper. "So?"

"You didn't tell me."

"Parents aren't really a concept of your world, Ironhide. My Dad's death…"

"Is something even we can relate to," came the slightly annoyed growl. "We might not have parents, but we know a passing. Not all of my kind have been killed in battle. We age, we can stop functioning."

Lennox studied his tattooed hands. He had seen hints of that in some of the chapters he had read.

"How old are you?" he finally asked.

Ironhide looked surprised and he settled down on the floor of the lab, gazing at the so much smaller human.

"Older than Prime. Young enough not to know much about the creation of Cybertron itself. I wasn't one of the first. I never met one of them. I think they are all dead."

Will nodded. "My father wasn't old enough to die. Not naturally. It was a heart attack. Pump-failure," Lennox added, searching for a compatible version in mechanoids.

"I know what a heart attack is, Lennox," Ironhide snapped. "I learned about human illnesses."

"How come?"

"Being around you, I wanted to know what could happen to you."

Something warm spread through him for no apparent reason. "Oh. Cool. But… I'm not really human, Ironhide."

It got him a scowl. "At the time you were."

"Ah. Okay. Right."

"And I would have come with you if I had been there," the mech added as if he needed to say it.

"I know. Thanks. It was good to have someone there, to have Jazz, because just Banachek's men…" He stopped and shrugged.

"I understand." Ironhide reached out and touched a rune crawling over Lennox's forearm. "Loss," he translated softly.

"He meant a lot to me. My Dad. He wasn't a great military officer or some hot shot anywhere else. He was a teacher. At the university in Minot."

"Greatness doesn't come from one's job, Will," the mech said quietly. "He was someone you trusted."

"Yeah. He died thinking I'm dead. And maybe it's what killed him."

Blue optics studied him compassionately. "You cannot change the past."

"No one can."

It got him a nod. "We live with the loss. We survive because there is something else we live for."

"Chasing the Allspark?" Will asked neutrally. "Only to watch it blow up into Megatron? Why don't you leave this planet, Ironhide? Why stay?"

"Because we have found something else. Because your world needs us in case the Decepticons return."

"Duty?"

"It was our all decision. Prime didn't make it for us. We could try to reach the Ark, but then what? There is nothing left."

"There are worlds to explore. There might be others out there, other Autobots…"

A shrug. "Prime sent the call. They might come here one day. I can't find fault with my life as it is here."

"Hiding amongst us."

"Yes. Some of you know. We have friends." The blue optics seemed to turn a deeper shade. "You have friends. Loss is never final as long as there is someone to share it with."

Will smiled slightly. "Yeah."

The loss of his father still sat heavily with him and he would need time to work through it. Unlike his siblings he had no one to share this with but people who had never known George Lennox. That was the most difficult part: the inability to be there for his remaining family and have them help him in return. Share memories of his Dad, listen to the others recount their anecdotes.

"Tell me about him," Ironhide said, startling him a little.

"My Dad?"

"Yes."

He wanted to know why, but he didn't ask. Somehow it wasn't important. Somehow he wanted to give Ironhide a little insight into humans, into him, and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to ask similar questions in return.

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Hope you liked!

In case you wonder why I picked Minot, ND... Josh Duhamel was actually born there. Got that from his IMDB page. :) Everything else is pure fiction.


	10. Conversations

TITLE: Conversations  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: okamamyrrhibis

Sometimes you need to talk about it to get a better perspective...

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It was a hot day. The sun was burning in the August sky. There was hardly any insect life. All lay still, waiting for the sun to set, for temperatures to drop.

"Did you ever really freak out?"

Sam looked up from his frozen mocha and frowned a little at the question. "Over Bee?"

Beads of perspiration hung on the clear plastic cup that contained his beverage. Sam had opted for short sleeves and light pants. He liked sun and warmth, had grown up in it, but today was especially hot.

"Yeah," Will now said.

The ex-Army Ranger stirred his tall coffee, two sugars, no milk. They were sitting outside a tiny store in the middle of the desert. It had a wrap-around porch, was painted in fading blue and white, and there was no one around but them for miles. The owner was a thin old man of undetermined age, bushy eyebrows over alert eyes, bent over from 'old war wounds' as he always claimed, and who couldn't care less who sat on his porch.

Sam had been the one who had found this place on his long rides with Bumblebee. It had fantastic coffees and the ice cream was to die for. Will had been rather reluctant to leave the base and with it his safety against prying eyes, but Sam had convinced him that there would be no one around.

And there wasn't.

Cars passed by only now and then. They seemed to shimmer and blur on the heat-beaten road. The road was a good mile from the little shop and casual looks wouldn't reveal Will's 'skin problem'. He had opted for long sleeves despite the heat and a pulled down baseball cap. The sunglasses hid another portion of his face. In the shade of the porch the glyphs all but disappeared from curious eyes.

"I freaked," Sam now said, thumb running through the water droplets on his cup. "Multiple times. First time in Mission City. I mean, he had gotten his legs blown off!"

Will nodded. He had been there. Busy with staying alive, with saving people, the whole damned planet, but he had been there.

"I didn't know how painful it was; if it was painful at all. I didn't know if he might die of it. I had no clue." Sam shrugged. "I also freaked at having an alien car. It was a small freaking. More of a mild panic sometimes. I was afraid the government might take him away, that he might tire of being just a car, of sitting in the parking lot and waiting for me at school. Silly stuff."

"Not silly," Will contradicted softly. "Normal."

Another shrug. Sam stirred his mocha. "Up until the day I stumbled around Bobby B's dealership I was a normal guy." He chuckled. "At least as normal as you are with seventeen, hormones running wild, no girl-friend in sight, and the joke of the jocks."

Will nodded again. He knew seventeen and high-school, senior year. He had been a jock, he had had a girl. Still, he knew.

"Then came the technopathy. That was a full freak-out. I could feel him, hear him, touch him… all of them. After I got a handle on that… getting together wasn't really such a problem." Sam smiled.

Will chuckled. "I bet."

"It's not like you just switch from human to mech, Will. I had the advantage of getting to know him technopathically before we found there's something more. I couldn't even say what the 'more' is. It's just… nice. To have someone close, to be understood, to share something."

"And the sex ain't bad either," Lennox teased.

Sam didn't really flush, but there was a little head-ducking involved. "It's not sex," he finally said. "It's something else. It touches something inside me."

"And it feels good."

Another head duck. "Yes. Very."

Will gazed at his coffee. "I'm still not sure what this is between me and Ironhide."

"A connection?" came the guess.

"In a way. We share something. It's not technopathy. It's more… physical, without being physical for real."

"And it freaks you?"

"Sometimes. It feels good, Sam. Never doubt it. It's really good."

"Then there's no harm."

"But it's…" Will exhaled and shook his head. He took a long swallow from his coffee. "I don't know who I am, Sam. I don't know what I feel."

"There's nothing wrong in sharing with one of them, Will. It's not a commitment."

"Feels like it."

"Because you're human."

"Did you commit to Bumblebee?"

Sam nodded silently. "Yeah," he then said. "It's different for us, though. It's… more than sharing. It's not a spark bond, but it feels like it sometimes. I know what's between Jazz and Barricade. I touched it often enough. This is… similar. Not the same, but similar. It's really good and fun, but also intense and warm and just us." He made a vague gesture. "Hard to explain."

"I get it." Will squinted into the sun, glasses still on his nose. "Humans and mechs have different emotions. I loved Sarah. A lot. It was head-over-heels and just as intense. The sex was great, actually. And when she got pregnant it was like everything was suddenly perfect."

"Ironhide's not Sarah. Just like Bee's not Mikaela."

"I know that!" Lennox growled. "I'm not saying he is or that I want him to be! I don't want him human, Sam. That wouldn't be right. I just… it's not that I miss something… I'm too busy being weird and freaky all by myself. It's nice to share a bed with someone, but lately I keep thinking of the consequences of allowing someone that close."

"Ironhide's not just someone, Will. He understands more than any human would."

"Aside from you."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe."

Will chewed on his lower lip, clearly agitated. He looked at one hand, the runes faint and lazy against the tanned skin.

"I freaked the first time when his name showed up," he finally said. "It was there, on my wrist, like some blatantly obvious hint at something I was too stupid to understand. I freaked more when his touch became comforting. How the runes reacted to it. How I felt when he did it."

"Nice?"

"Really nice. No sex involved." Lennox shook his head. "Just nice. Getting touched. Having him there. Talking without saying much. I was too scared of myself to acknowledge him any more than I already did. And his closeness was… good for me."

Sam watched dust blow across the desert ground. "I know how it feels."

"And then he overwhelmed me with the sharing stuff. From one moment to the next we left out several steps in the relationship and had landed in bed, so to speak."

"Will…"

He threw up a hand and waved off the comment. "Yeah, yeah, no sex. I understand that. It's not sex. Humans have sex, biological imperative and messy fluids and all. But I am human, Sam. I have these messy fluids. My biological imperative doesn't include making out with giant robots, though."

Sam snorted with laughter and then broke out in bursts of it. "Gawd, that sounds so bad," he hiccupped.

Lennox chuckled. "Yeah, it does. Like we're sitting in a dark corner and groping each other."

Another fit of laughter almost had Sam choking. Will gave him a few pats on the back.

"Would be easier, though. To understand all this," he finally added. "The size is a problem. The metal stuff. The alien way of thinking."

"You'd kiss a robot?"

A shrug.

Sam grinned. "You would!"

"Hey!"

Lennox glared at the smirk on the younger man's face.

Sam leaned back a little, eyes on the blue sky. "They're different. The two of us are different. We both have different ways of being with two aliens who find we match them somehow. Of course I have an advantage with the technopathy, but you can become a protoform, be Ironhide's size. You can share, which is natural for them."

"You have almost a spark bond. You understand what everything means," Will countered.

"We have different partners," Sam pointed out. "Ironhide would probably freak over technopathic contact."

"So would I," Lennox muttered. "I still wonder how I got myself into this, why I did it. Am I that needy?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

A huff. "No clue. I hadn't gotten laid since… Sarah," he confessed, wondering why he discussed his sex life, or lack thereof, and relationship with Ironhide in such detail with the only human being who could actually have an idea what he was talking about.

Okay, that was the answer already: there was no one else and Sam wouldn't call him weird or perverted.

"I enjoy it, plain and simple. I like it, Ironhide likes it…"

"No harm done," Sam concluded. "Which is pretty much the philosophy of Cybertronians. It's casual. Committed and casual. No danger, no harm, no foul, no nothing."

"Just one confused human."

"You're less confused than you think, Will."

"Am I?" the former Major asked.

"Yeah. We wouldn't be talking otherwise. Have you ever thought of initiating sharing yourself?" Sam suddenly asked.

"Huh?"

"You said it's usually Ironhide. He starts it."

"Uh-huh. I mean… I wouldn't know where to… touch."

"Ask him."

Lennox felt himself flush. He was too inexperienced in these matters for his liking. Forty years on this planet and he felt like a teenager before kissing for the first time.

Sam just grinned at him, unrelenting, clearly enjoying this.

"Dating Sarah was easier," Lennox finally muttered. "She was bossy and knew what she wanted and she really overran me. Army Ranger training and all. Ironhide's… he's laid back and he's waiting for something to happen."

"Like you making up your mind?"

"Probably." A shrug. "I already told him that I like it. I'm not running away screaming."

"You just have deep conversations with me."

Lennox chuckled. "Yeah."

"Does it help?"

"In a way."

"Good."

Sam let his eyes wander over the blue sky once more, then back to the desert. His frozen mocha was empty, so was Will's coffee. Around the porch Bumblebee was waiting patiently for the two humans. He hadn't tried to peek and he hadn't listened in. He was a solid, reassuring presence in Sam's mind.

_This was how such a relationship should be_, he thought. _Safe and secure._ _Able to trust the other one, have a true partner. _Ironhide was giving Will the necessary time to adjust because there was no technopathy, but a lot of cultural clashes and different understandings of the subject matter. Sam had long ago stopped thinking like a human about this. He had stopped used words like 'love' and 'sex', had replaced them with the Cybertronian equivalent. It was like learning a new language that consisted of emotions instead of solely words. Cybertronians understood the meaning of love in all its different shades, but they didn't experience it like humans. Bee had never said it to Sam, but Sam knew that the mechanoid felt something equally strong.

It was so difficult to explain to another, so hard to put into words that didn't get across what this meant. There was no translation, just the fact.

And Ironhide had told Will already that he thought of them as compatible. They had shared. It was close and scary and wonderful and hard to accept and so very, very new to Will.

::He'll understand one day:: Bumblebee sent.

::Part of him does already. It's just a lot. The accident was only a year ago, Bee. All that fell together and almost smothered him. Ironhide means well and he wants Will close, but Will is still struggling::

::Ironhide is patient::

Sam smiled. Yeah, he was. You wouldn't believe it, but the weapons specialist had an incredible patience when it came to Lennox and the changes between them.

::And Will has you:: Bumblebee added.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

They drove back after another frozen mocha and an iced latte. The old man in the shop didn't even blink at their continued presence, about Will looking like he was in the middle of a snow field instead of a desert.

Bumblebee was playing the radio on the way back, easy listening. Sam was driving, though not really. His hands were on the wheel, his mind half leaning against Bumblebee's, half keeping an eye on their passenger. Will had tipped back the seat, closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wasn't. He was wide awake, as Bumblebee had informed his friend.

Back at the base Lennox waved thanks, promised to go out for another iced caffeinated drink with him paying the next time, and disappeared into the cool, dark interior of the base. Sam discovered Optimus not far away and gave him a wave. Serene blue optics looked from him to the disappearing Lennox, then Optimus nodded back.

Nothing more was said in any way, verbally or otherwise.

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The whole of yesterday had been nice, Lennox had to confess. Nice and relaxing, despite the rather serious contemplations of his relationship with Ironhide. He was still thinking about it, more than before.

Because one part of the whole mess hadn't figured into it before. It was something he had forgotten about.

His whole body was changing. He was changing. What was a hybrid system now might one day become totally alien when compared to a human. Sam was already genetically no longer from Earth. His make-up was different and Ratchet had a few theories. With Will the theories were coming with proof – he had left the human genetic pool, too. His cells were a mix of Allspark and organic stuff, as if partial humanity had been added as an afterthought. When he shape-changed, his body was even more alien.

And he had stopped aging the normal human way. Ratchet had found no sign of cell degradation anywhere in his body the last few times he had been checked. He was frozen in time, like the Cybertronians, and the hybrid cells showed no sign of deteriorating either.

So he was… ageless.

Lennox knew the implications of that and they frightened him even more than having a kinda-not-really-sexual relationship with Ironhide.

Sharing, he repeated to himself. They were sharing. Totally different kinda thing.

One day he might even think about it that way. For now, a year into his change and a few months into this new relationship, he was still too much set in his human way of thinking.

Because he was human and always would be, no matter what his body decided came next.

"So you're stuck with me," he said concluded neutrally, looking at the black mechanoid next to him.

Almost on the same level. Ironhide was standing, Will was on top of the low building at the other end of the airfield.

"I can think of worse," was the teasing reply.

"Oh, thank you!" was the sarcastic reply. "I feel so loved."

Blue optics gleamed with amusement.

"But seriously," Will added, not really looking at his friend. "If Ratchet is correct, I'm becoming more and more like you guys. Still organic, but part of me decided that living your life-span might be a perk."

Ironhide regarded him solemnly. "I won't say no to that perk."

"Sure?"

"I would mourn your passing, Will Lennox. Like any comrade's."

"I see."

Ironhide tilted his head. "Would you regret being with me that long?"

"No," Lennox answered quietly, seriously. "It's… I can't say I won't get annoyed or we get on each other's nerves and start flinging insults. For humans, fights are normal. It's healthy to get the emotions out in the open, clear your head, clear the very air. You know where you stand."

"I think that can be arranged," came the wry rumble.

Will snorted. "I think so, too."

A single digit carefully touched him, gentle and careful. It stroked over his tense back and Lennox leaned almost unconsciously into the touch. It was nice. Unexpected-still-had-to-get-used-to nice.

"Compromises," he said softly, repeating what had been said so often before.

"Compromises," Ironhide confirmed.

"I can live with that." _Already do. So many of them. And I care less about each new one. Because it works_, Will mused to himself. No technopathy needed.

Runes swirled lazily over his skin and his eyes fell on the delicate 'bracelet' of glyphs around his wrist.

Near-forever sounded scary. The loss of so much looming on the horizon made Will want to cower in a corner and cry for days. He wanted to lose it, scream and rant, but the prospect of having something steady and permanent at his side gave it all a lighter note. Not much, but a little.

Ironhide let his finger run over the marked forearm. The glyphs danced in his wake.

Lennox exhaled sharply and pulled his morose thoughts back. This was now. Today. He had never given his future more of a thought than was truly necessary. He wouldn't start pondering it regularly now either.

Ironhide opened his hand in an offer and Will climbed onto the palm. He was lowered back to the ground, smiling briefly as a thank you. They walked back to the base where Ironhide went back to his weapons lab, off to tinker with whatever he had set his mind on next. Will switched on the TV, got himself a bag of chips and a large bottle of too sweet, very unhealthy soft drink, and let mindless shows wash over him. The runes were almost docile now, barely moving, tattoos without life on his body.

Maybe he could get Epps to play chess with him tonight. It would be a nice distraction. His former second-in-command usually wiped the floor with him, but it was nice to spend time with people from his past.

_I need to get a job_, he thought wryly. _I'm starting to sound like my own grandfather._

Laughing to himself, he went in search for Sam. The younger man was about to start on organizing his move to the base. He would need help and Will needed something to do.


	11. To Protect

TITLE: To Protect  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: R-ish for close physical contact ;)  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):   
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: okamimyrrhibis

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It was early in the morning with the mist still clinging to the ground and the sun not yet strong enough to pierce through the cloud cover. It spoke of rain already and by midday it would probably pour down again.

The soft thrum of the air-conditioning system, circulating cooler, cleaner air into the room, was the only sound at the moment, barely penetrating into the thoughts of the two men looking at the testimony of human cruelty.

Will Lennox looked downright sick at the sight of the twisted metal, of the multiple parts that showed what might have been a Transformer but had gotten stuck just before his death. Once it had been a motor bike. Then Sector Seven had played God and the spidery legs sticking out at odd angles showed that the experiment had failed horribly. Caught in mid-transformation, dead before it had had a chance to unfold. 

Yeah, he felt sick. And tired. Tired of seeing so much senseless death. The whole room was filled with boxes, all labeled, all evidence of something horrible.

Sam walked around the bike, looking a little pale. Will knew that his friend had been working with these twisted remains for a while now. It was what occupied him when he had time to pass, when he didn't want to go anywhere, when he needed to do this. Lennox had found a similar obsession after the first time he had seen the casualty list.

He went to a table and carefully scooped up another failed experiment, another kill, depositing it in a sealable container.

"How many?" Will asked tonelessly.

Sam sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "Too many. And not all were ever kept. Ratchet went through the records and compared them to what Ironhide saw on you. We have about two thirds of what's apparently the complete list in here."

Will swallowed and joined Sam at the table. His eyes fell on the tiny body of the Nokia and he reached out, one finger touching the charred remains. At the time he had felt little in the ways of compassion when Simmons had killed the poor thing. His own men had been attacked by the Decepticons and he hadn't been able to tell friend from foe. That had changed within the hour, meeting Bumblebee, watching them fight, dying for the humans.

"Wish I knew how to work the Allspark part in me," he murmured.

"Considering that you aren't the Allspark… I doubt you could give life, Will," Sam told him levelly. "And even if you could…"

He nodded briskly. He knew what the younger man was about to say. Lennox put the tiny robot into its box;, its coffin, he thought darkly.

"How can you work here?" he wanted to know, shivering a little.

"I don't come here all too often. Ratchet sorted out the experiments from the dead shells. I usually help him when it comes to trying out what Sector Seven came up with in the way of ground-breaking inventions." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Gives me the creeps, though. Really badly. I mean, they weren't so different from the Autobots, y'know."

Lennox nodded. Looking at the twisted bike he couldn't help but see Ironhide, and thinking of his partner as nothing but an experiment, tortured and twisted and so very scared…

Because the experiments had been scared. Woken up, caged in, trapped, people staring at them…

They had had no spark. The Allspark had transferred energy, but no spark. They hadn't been sentient like the Autobots. Still… Will felt goose bumps all over. His sick feeling turned to nausea.

Sam picked up the list Ratchet had provided. It was the complete one, the one that had scrolled over Will's shoulder after leaving the Hoover Dam facility. The names of ghosts.

"We might never know about the others," he said softly.

"Yeah. What about these? What's Ratchet doing with them?"

"For now? Store them here. It's not like the Autobots bury their dead. And we may need them one day."

Lennox swallowed, then gave another brisk nod. His eyes were on the bike again, the largest of them. The small fridge transformer had been more humanoid than this thing, had had a head and four arms and fingers, like the Mountain Dew machine. But the bike with its spidery appendages and desperate grapple for anything as it died had much more of an impact. It was alien, terrible and scary, but Will only felt shared pain.

Being with the Autobots had done that, had changed his mind. There were those who couldn't care less about what happened in the secret labs. They looked at the metal as nothing but scrap to be reused. Epps was different. He had been down here once and left in a hurry. Lennox felt the same need right now. It was an almost physical sickness.

"I'll be upstairs," he mumbled and left, not even waiting for an acknowledgement from Sam.

He needed air. He needed the sky and the sun and the desert. He needed to be out of here.

Outside it was a cloudy day. Rain was threatening in the distance, over the mountains, and Mission City might get a flooding. Everything smelled of rain, of static electricity, and Lennox felt himself shiver a little. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started to walk. He had no place in mind, wandered aimlessly over the base grounds, left the perimeter, headed out into the desert.

He needed to clear his head of the images still running before his inner eye.

In the distance, the darkness still spoke of rain and thunder and storms. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It was three hours later that he stopped and got his bearings. A wry smile passed over his lips. Damn, he had gotten far. The base was no longer visible, there was nothing but landscape all around him, and he still, despite the loneliness, he felt better than in the last hours. The creepy feeling of so much death had evaporated.

The storm had not come his way, sitting like a brooding entity in the distance, watching and waiting. There were the faint rumbles of thunder, vibrations coursing through his body as if he seemed to pick up the natural force with every cell, and something told him he would be out in the rain soon if he didn't go back.

Will shook himself and inhaled deeply, letting the air out in a long, slow breath. He closed his eyes; let the serenity of this nothingness take over.

A crackle disturbed him and he almost jumped, heart hammering.

"Damnit!"

"Lennox, where in Cybertron's name are you?" a gruff voice demanded.

"And hello to you too, Ironhide," he muttered.

Will had forgotten he was still wearing the ear piece, something that was a left-over habit from his Army days. Of course it helped when he was trying to contact Ironhide, but it put a crimp into his need to be alone and work through what had happened.

"Where are you?" the mech repeated.

"Outside."

"Not on base grounds."

Will squinted into the distance. "Nope."

"Lennox…" came the warning rumble.

"I took a walk, Ironhide. I'm fine. I just needed some time."

Silence greeted that statement.

"Okay," the weapons specialist finally relented.

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Will smiled. "I'll be back in a few."

He didn't need to imagine the expression in the blue optics; he knew it. Ironhide wasn't happy.

Just how unhappy his friend had been was apparent when Will hiked back not much later. He was about an hour on foot away from the base when he was greeted by the black Topkick. Lennox rolled his eyes.

"You gotta be kidding me," he murmured.

Ironhide transformed and Lennox sighed. That expression he knew: Ironhide was about to explode in a fit over something or other his human friend had done; or not done.

"Don't," he only said, before Ironhide could get a word out. "Just don't. I needed this. And I'm not about to die out here because I take a little walk."

Ironhide growled.

"I'm not helpless, so can it, all right?"

The mech went down on one knee, facing Will. "No, you're not," he said slowly. "And I know you can take care of yourself. Leaving word where you are going might help, though."

"You were worried," Will stated.

"I was worried."

"Why?"

There was a creaking noise from deep inside Ironhide, followed by what passed as a sigh for mechanoids.

"You didn't react well to the dead shells."

That was a mild word for it. "They creep me out."

Ironhide reached out and touched the pale runes. "I can see that."

Will looked at his skin. The glyphs were all but pale shadows of their former strong presence.

_Shocky runes._ _Uh-huh. _He hadn't really noticed because he had been too busy staring at everything but his marked skin.

"Want to walk some more or drive?" Ironhide asked as he removed his touch.

"I think I walked enough."

Ironhide rose, then transformed, and he opened the door. Lennox climbed inside and leaned back against the seat.

"I know they all died long before you guys came, but now I understand it. Back then, when Simmons gave life to the phone and then killed it… I didn't feel a thing."

"Now you do?"

"Yeah."

"You can mourn the past, but you can't let it take over, Will."

"Know that."

"I've seen too many deaths to count," Ironhide said, sounding a little far-away. "The war took too much from us all."

"Wasn't a war here. I've been in war zones, 'hide. I know loss. This was deliberate. Create something, watch it die. Zap it because it goes out of control."

A hum passed through the cab. The Topkick hadn't moved yet. Lennox slid deeper into the seat. One hand was rubbing over the steering wheel.

"Shit," he only commented.

He had read the report from Mission City. He knew the other machines had been subdued. A pretty word for 'killed'. The Mountain Dew machine had put up the most fight. The airbag creature had been unable to leave the car. The whole vehicle had been confiscated and then zapped. The X-Box had managed to flee and hide, but it had been found in the end, too.

"Fuck," he whispered, fingers clenching, knuckles white.

Ironhide said nothing. Then, "Did you feel any of it in the lab?"

Will shook his head. "No. Just under the Dam. At least a little. It felt weird, like ghosts. What's left of it in those boxes… it's just metal. It makes me sick, though."

Runes swirled with more life now and Will kicked up his legs on the seat, gazing out the passenger seat window. He watched the glyphs creep over his hands. The Allspark was inside him, hidden from scanners, hidden from knowing eyes, though it wasn't one hundred percent camouflaged. The runes were a dead giveaway. He couldn't use it, though. And would he want to resurrect the dead things? They had been terrified and because of it, and aggressive. Would bringing them back change anything?

No.

"I know Sector Seven isn't all bad guys with twisted morals," he finally broke the silence. "Hide the past to protect the future, all that stuff. What they did, a hundred years ago, was incredible. It's not them who started to harness the Allspark energy; it was their descendents."

"Trial and error is the way of evolution."

Will cocked an eyebrow. "Philosophical streak once more, huh?"

"I'm only saying that what your forefathers did and what others of your kind continued to experiment with… they didn't do it out of spite. I believed your race to be cruel and selfish and destructive, Will. You took Bumblebee and tortured him."

Lennox winced a little.

"But Prime was right when he said we weren't so different. The Allspark created us, but we used its power, too."

"Not like this."

"No. But we went to war over it, destroyed our kind, our planet, scattered the survivors across the universe." Ironhide's voice was quiet, filled with regret and mourning. "I lost everything and when we finally found the Allspark, we had to sacrifice it for your world."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," was the immediate answer, soft and gentle and filled with emotions that had Will shiver.

Resting one hand against the metal frame of Ironhide's car form, the runes strengthened and there was a trickle of something, then a little tingle that grew, and Will pulled his hand away. A shudder raced through the Topkick.

"Ironhide?" Lennox managed, shivering.

"What did you do?" the mech wanted to know.

"N-nothing. I…oh…"

It had felt like… at least a little bit like…

"Did we?" he asked.

Ironhide rumbled. "No. You stopped."

Will laughed, sounding confused and shaken. "I what?"

"You stopped!" Ironhide accused.

Lennox raised his hand and slowly touched the metal again. There was no reaction.

"I don't know… It never happened when I was human…" he stumbled over the words.

Ironhide gave an unhappy whine, clearly caught off guard and left wanting. Lennox closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the breath out slowly. He finally fumbled for the latch and opened the door, almost falling out. The change to protoform was instinctual and when his optics came to life, he was looking at the bipedal mode of his partner, who had transformed just as quickly.

Connections formed, Ironhide drew him close, and the rush raced through him. Not like before, not needy and uncontrolled but slow and deliberate and drawn out. Will shivered, felt Ironhide's very spark shudder, too. Then it was over and it seemed like it had lasted for hours.

Strong hands kept him from going down on his knees and Will fought the desire to change back, but his bodily needs couldn't be denied. Ironhide followed him down, kneeling again, cupping his hand around the exhausted human form.

Light tingles spread out from where they touched and Will shied away a little, though there wasn't enough room to move much.

This was new. He had never… this long… this intense… and now as a human?

Blue optics reflected what's running like jackrabbits through his mind. Ironhide was very much aware of the changes and the newness of it all.

"Okay?" Will wanted to know.

"I'm fine. It was unexpected."

"You're telling me."

Things were still changing. Damn. Every time he thought it was over, that he was about to settle in his abilities and the newness, he was hit by something else once more.

"Will?"

"I'm okay."

Ironhide looked skeptical, but he let it go. Instead he brushed his thumb over Lennox's stomach, ever so gentle. The runes on Will's face had to be blinding from the looks of it and he could bet on the blue light in his eyes again. Lennox didn't want to think of arousal at all, didn't want to call the feeling he experienced anything that was connected to human sensation.

"Home?" he queried.

Ironhide snorted. "You want to?"

"What I want is to stay the hell away from the lab and its contents, but we both live there."

"Humans are happy to camp," Ironhide pointed out.

"You want to go camping with me?"

A shrug.

"Where?"

There was a soft whirring, then barely audible clicking. Lennox chuckled.

"How about we just drive around a bit? There are some nice back roads."

"Which are murder on my shocks."

"Don't complain. You wanted to go camping."

Ironhide snorted. "You don't want to go back to the base."

"I never said so."

A growl answered that and Will jumped off the metal hand, smiling at his friend. His expression became more serious.

"That was new," he remarked carefully.

"Very," came the confirmation.

"But okay…?"

Ironhide nodded. "Unexpected, but I have to expect that."

Lennox chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds like you expect even more."

"If something happens, it does. Don't hold back what you can do, Will."

"Even if it's just making out while I'm still human?"

Ironhide rumbled softly, then shrugged.

Will started to walk back, needing the exercise again. His thoughts were no longer chasing each other, but he wasn't all that calm either. Ironhide followed in car form and somewhere throughout that walk, they ended up next to each other, Will's hand resting on the deep black fender, and the purr of the engine reverberated through him. It felt nice and good and familiar.

_A man and his talking truck_, he thought with faint amusement. But his could transform, packed quite a punch and… the sex was great.

Michael Knight, eat your heart out.


	12. Compromises

TITLE: Compromises  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: okaymimyrrhibis

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ironhide had spent a lot of time researching humans lately. He had never seen the need to know more about this race than what was necessary to interact with their allies. He knew more about political military history of the planet than about human beings as such, the biological entity. They were organic, smaller and lived a rather short life compared to a mech. That was about it.

With Will Lennox that had changed. Not right away, of course. Will had been a fellow warrior, part of their team, but nothing more. Their friendship had deepened and Ironhide had learned about human relationships through his friend. Like marriage and reproduction. It was alien to him, but he listened to Lennox talk about his ex-wife and their daughter. He had never met them, only seen both females from afar. It had been rather fascinating.

Then the accident had occurred and Lennox had been forever changed. Body, mind and spark. With the changes, Ironhide had discovered a change in himself. He had always viewed Will as compatible to himself. They were like-minded, as the humans said. They shared something already without delving into the more complicated version of Cybertronian sharing. Ironhide had never let what could be called 'attraction' cloud his interactions with the other soldier. Will had been beyond his reach. No amount of explanations could have brought him closer.

Then the shape-changing had come forward. It had developed rapidly, just like Ironhide's decision to take a last step and chance it. Interpreting human behavior was hard sometimes, impossible at one moment, and very easy to read the next. They were complicated creatures and just as it was difficult for them to interpret Cybertronian emotions, Ironhide knew it went the other way around, too.

Will had become something that allowed Ironhide to share. Lennox was still effectively human and humans couldn't share, but as a mimicked protoform it was possible. He knew he had overrun Will with it, but sometimes the direct method was better than words. In Will's case, no amount of words could have explained this. It was alien and new to the hybrid.

Sharing was a matter of trust and affection. It didn't relate to sexual activity as seen with the humans, but it could be interpreted as such by a being that had no correct translation for the act. Mechanoids didn't need to reproduce by interacting with their sparks, that was a fact. Spark bonds formed for different reasons. They were so rare, they wouldn't be able to guarantee the survival of the Cybertronian race.

So Ironhide accessed the internet to find out about human bonds, about humans as such. Lennox still had trouble accepting that what they shared was not what he thought it was. Ironhide started to understand when he came to the section about touch.

Humans touched.

He had seen it before. A clap on the shoulder, a handshake, slapping one's arm, bumping into each other… so many ways of casual touch. Then there was intimate touch. And kissing.

Not something mechanoids did. There were no nerve endings to transmit the touch as they did for humans. Their mouths weren't shaped for intimate touch. Ironhide himself had never felt the need to be held or to hold someone for purely affectionate reasons. But he understood something else now: the runes' reaction to him touching Will's skin. They had swirled around his finger like a swarm of glow worms.

Humans liked touch. They liked closeness. The runes, more than anything, spoke of that craving, of Will missing something. Lennox had never said it out loud, though.

Both of them were making compromises, but at the moment it seemed that the human side was pushing away needs that the mechanoid hadn't even been aware of.

It placed Ironhide in a strange situation. Where Will had trouble adjusting to the expression of sharing, Ironhide was trying to bridge the gap when it came to touch. Their size was a problem, too. He couldn't embrace Will; he would if it were possible. The few times he had stroked a finger over his friend's back had been when the runes had strengthened. Now it made so much sense.

He went to Ratchet for help.

The medic knew about the relationship, about sharing with each other, and while he had cautioned Ironhide against overwhelming Will, he hadn't tried to talk him out of it. Like every mechanoid, Ratchet respected a sharing.

"I've been looking into possible solutions for you, but I'm afraid that at the moment there is none. The holo-projectors are not equipped to relay touch. Changing that would require a lot more energy on your part to uphold the hologram, Ironhide. It would severely drain you."

Which was not advisable. Each mech had a holo-projector, used to create a driver should the need arise, but it was a flimsy projection. Insubstantial. To give the hologram touch would require modifications that endangered the robot in question.

"Has Will shown any ill effects?" Ratchet now wanted to know.

Ironhide frowned. "Not to my knowledge. I'm not going to hurt him, Ratchet." He knew he sounded slightly pissed off.

"I never said so. His body structure is different from us, as well as from humans'. Underneath what we see as a protoform shell is organic tissue, Ironhide."

"I'm aware of that," the weapons specialist grated. "And we are fine. Sharing doesn't hurt him!"

He would have stopped if Will had ever experienced anything even close to pain. Ironhide was very much aware that Lennox wasn't one hundred percent mech even if he looked like one. Somehow, it made the whole experience even more special; made Will more special.

"But he still has human feelings."

"I suppose."

Ratchet frowned a little. "It's difficult to bridge the gap between two species that are so different in size."

"Tell me about it," Ironhide muttered. "Increasing his size results in an immediate change of his body structure to the protoform exo-skeleton. Touching him when he's human… I'm afraid I might hurt him."

"So far, you haven't. And drawing on my experience with Sam and Bumblebee, nothing has happened at all in the past."

"That's different. Sam can uplink," the other mech argued.

"Still you decided on Will for a partner. You made that choice, Ironhide."

"And I stand by it."

"Unless I can minimize the holo-projector's need for energon, there will be no changes in that regard. The question is would you be comfortable acting human in a holographic form?"

Ironhide shifted. "We both had to learn a lot. I can do that, too."

"Commendable."

"Oh, shut up, Ratchet," came the growl.

The medic chuckled. "I'll keep on working on that project. You'll be the first to know when it works safely enough."

Ironhide nodded and left the med bay. He knew it was dangerous. Energy drains were not to be taken lightly. But if it helped Will feel better he would do it. 

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Will had fallen asleep in his cab. He had been exhausted and Ironhide knew he had been pushed to the limit, testing his abilities like he would a new recruit back on Cybertron. The difference was, Lennox was still human, even if he looked far from it. He had taken a few bad hits and Ironhide knew they should have stopped sooner, but Will was relentless, too. He wanted to learn. He wanted to handle his abilities.

"What use am I if all I can do is stand there and be a liability?" had been his heated argument. "I can't transform! I don't have any guns on me! I'm defenseless! Teach me!"

So Ironhide taught him. Close combat had led to several intense situations with Will fighting through pain and exhaustion to show the other that he was useful. Ironhide knew he was; Will was a soldier, a warrior, and he knew how to survive. It didn't need big guns or special powers to do that. Will's instincts were right on target; that was what he needed out there in a war.

But he also understood the need to be more than just Will Lennox, hybrid human. He had lost so much and gained little in return. Humans were tenacious in that matter. Lennox more than others, he believed.

Moving a little, Lennox muttered something, then quieted down again. Ironhide had parked away from the base, his engine silent, his interior sound proof. He wanted to give his friend the time he needed, however long that was. Recharge for humans was different. For the hybrid nothing much had changed. He still slept like humans did, though sometimes he was up for much longer and functioned just the same. He also should have been in bed, but Ironhide didn't have the heart to wake him right away. While bruises didn't show on Will's changed skin, the mech knew that his friend was severely bruised.

Will sighed softly and his body tilted a little, then slid down onto the seats. His eyes briefly opened, but he wasn't awake, then he curled up as best as he could in the cab and continued his slumber. Ironhide was always amazed in what situations and positions humans could find sleep. As a soldier Will had had to make due with what any given situation handed him. Right now the situation could be changed, but that meant waking the exhausted man.

Ironhide took note of his energon reserves, found them satisfactory enough to proceed, then activated the holo-emitter. Without a sound his holographic form came to life, so to speak. He had never taken the time to fine-tune it, make it look human

His general appearance was humanoid, with two arms and legs and a head. The body looked smoother, without clothes but not naked in any sense, and dully reflected the light around him. The basic color was black. If anyone had to choose a description, it would have been 'metal', but it wasn't. He had no substance. He was a holographic image, created by his processor. Still, the image had a robotic, metallic look. He had two eyes, intense blue in color, but he was missing all other features. No lips, no real nose, nothing. It was like someone had wrapped his lower face in a black bandage. He had five fingers, but they ended in tips with no apparent nail structure. Just a conical shape.

Ironhide knew he had to work on his image, so to speak. He wouldn't be able to blend in, should he choose to do so, but at least it worked. He switched on another function, felt the sudden drain on his energon reserves. He set an alert to remind him when things became dangerous, then reached out for his partner.

Will's eyes flew open and his hands moved in a defensive gesture, catching the hardlight hologram in the face. Blue flared in the brown depths.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed.

Ironhide had caught the hand and held it firmly, meeting the ice blue flames in his friend's eyes. Runes flared, crawling over the tanned skin, and where Ironhide's hologram touched them, they seemed to send little tingles through the projection. It was like a feedback loop into his processor and Ironhide shifted uneasily, though he didn't let go.

"Will, it's me."

"Ironhide?!"

"Yes."

Will stared at the hand that was very physically restraining him. "W-what? How?"

"Ratchet's idea."

"Uhm…" Lennox tugged a little at his trapped hand and Ironhide released it. "Why?"

"To offer you the physical closeness you need?"

The human stared, unable to comprehend. "Come again?"

"You miss the touching," Ironhide only said.

"When did I ever say that?"

"Never in words, but I've noticed how often you pat my hood or touch me in different ways. I can't give that back to you. Your species likes touching. You react to it."

"Well, yes, but… can all of you do that?"

"No. We all have holo-projectors, but Ratchet only upgraded mine to function this way. This gives me a smaller physical form and the ability to interact directly with you. The hardlight version requires a higher energy consumption, for which I have to cut back on other functions, like transformation."

"Then stop it, 'hide. You don't have to do it," Will ordered flatly.

Ironhide let a rumble pass through the cab. "My current energy supply is quite enough to uphold the hologram for a few more hours."

He reached out and caught the wrist again. There wasn't a real sensation, just the fact that he was touching the human. Unlike the sensor net in his armor, the hologram was a remote unit without benefits. Runes danced around his touch and he deliberately encircled the wrist with the ones spelling his name. Something trickled through his processors, something almost warm and nice.

"Ironhide, I was aware of our limitations when I went into this… partnership," Lennox said. "I never expected you to conform to my size or to my needs like that."

"I see it as a field test of a possible strategic advantage."

Will laughed. "What? It's a hologram!"

"A useful advantage, especially when I am able to simulate a human."

It got him a snort. "You look like some half-finished model of one. Your face… everything…"

"It will take time to modify myself. It's easy to simulate a human form without substance. Hardlight takes more processor space and energon."

Lennox reached out and touched the face of the projection, looking surprised.

"It feels… real."

"If you say so."

Will smiled a little and traced one cheekbone, then let the caress run down the neck to the shoulder.

"How much do you feel?"

"Less than a pat on the hood."

"I see. Too bad."

Ironhide squeezed the wrist he held. "Compromises are never perfect."

"I'm aware of that. So this doesn't do anything for you?"

Ironhide studied the runes running smoothly over the hand he held, then looked into Lennox's eyes. Brown again. No more blue pin points of light.

"It allows a compromise," he only repeated. "That's enough. I will be able to be there for you in a different way should you require it."

Lennox nodded slowly. "That about defines the whole thing," he murmured.

"Will?" Ironhide asked, voice suddenly serious, intent.

Lennox looked up.

"This might not be as close as sharing, but it is more than I can give otherwise. Never doubt my willingness to be there for you."

The human smiled. "I know. And I'm glad. Thanks. Now stop it. You're draining yourself for nothing."

"I have an alert set on my energon consumption," Ironhide only said. "As for the 'nothing', I believe this accomplished something."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Lennox laughed softly. "Okay. It did. Something at least."

Ironhide released the wrist. "We should get back to base. You need to sleep, recharge from the training."

Will nodded, eyes still on the unfamiliar hologram. Ironhide deactivated the hardlight component, then let the image dissolve. He hadn't used up more than a fifth of the energon Ratchet had calculated he would need to uphold such an image over a prolonged time, like an hour. Maybe their medic could come up with an even better consumption rate. Ironhide would start working on ways to make this projection more lasting himself.

Driving back was done in silence. When Will got out, he trailed one hand over the black fender, smiling reminiscently. He didn't say anything, just patted the alien metal, then walked off into the base.

Ironhide transformed and watched him go, aware that the small steps they were taking were both painful and filled with hope. He hadn't lied when he had told Ratchet he had been aware of their limitations. And he would be willing to make more compromises should they help him and Will. His partner was making so many already for something neither knew where it was going. 

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In his living room, Lennox sank onto the couch, shivering with the memory of the touch. So different, so strange, so decidedly more alien than a large metal finger brushing over his back. While Ironhide, like all Autobots, was a stranger to the ways of casual human touch, he had tried to learn. Just like Will himself had learned. They were trying to make something work that a human might call a relationship, what Cybertronians translated as compatible partners, and and neither term was quite adequate.

Like Sam, Will had stepped into new territory. It was an expedition into a world he had never touched before. All his former experience didn't help him. All he had been taught when he had been raised, what the military had hammered into his head, all that he had been told was wrong… it no longer applied.

Go with the flow, Sam had told him.

It had gotten him this far. It had given him so much already.

Now Ironhide was trying to comfort him even more by working on a solid – no, hardlight - hologram.

Will smiled a little and rubbed a hand over the runes on his wrist.

"Thanks," he softly whispered.


	13. Relations

TITLE: Relations  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: the incredibly fast okamimyrrhibis. Thank you so much!

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The day had started out with the arrival of several new soldiers of various backgrounds that would join Epps' unit. The core team that had been to Mission City, to hell and back, was still there. They were a tight-knit group of ten men and they trusted the Autobots, just like the Autobots trusted them. But Epps needed more men, which translated into a second unit. Both units would remain under Epps' general command, but the second one would be headed by Lieutenant Vasquez.

So new troops arrived. Lennox had the feeling that they might not know what exactly awaited them. Epps had taken them out on training, orientation runs, familiarizing them with everything. Optimus Prime had made them gape when he had addressed the newbies. Ironhide had impressed them and scared the shit out of several, if not all, with weapons demonstration.

That was normal. It happened all the time.

Meeting Barricade usually got them wondering. The former Decepticon made no secret out of who and what he was. Bumblebee evoked friendlier reactions, though also the 'what's his deal?' and 'where's the trap?' mutterings. Sam they didn't take seriously. The young engineer was still looking like a kid, even at twenty-five, but he had no trouble dealing with any soldier who gave him narrow-eyed looks. He had learned from the best.

What had them staring and whispering was Lennox himself. He knew what he looked like and he knew what others saw. He didn't even try to hide the runes and glyphs on his skin any more. Epps had literally kicked his ass to stop hiding, and Vasquez had backed him up. Him and Ironhide. So the long-sleeved shirts made way for normal tees again. He didn't wear sunglasses religiously around the human population of the base to hide temper flares. He didn't even try to explain it at all any more.

They either had been briefed or they would shortly be by Epps and the others.

What didn't go well were those moments when one or two got cocky. Will loathed those times. He could hear them mouthing off to the others about what a freak he was. How they wondered that the military allowed him around. How he was weird and belonged to a freak show. Sometimes there were remarks on how it was good that he was no longer the commander of the unit. It had happened once; that guy had been removed asap. There were those who didn't get it after almost four weeks that the giant mechanoid aliens were their alien allies, not over-sized refrigerators for them to command.

When one of the new batch, formerly Sector Seven, commented that Lennox looked like a Sector Seven experiment, Will had to hold back. It was enough that he felt like a freak sometimes. He didn't need to be looked at as one, too. By people who were specifically chosen!

But sometimes one or two fell through the screening process.

Those were the times he needed to talk to Epps. His friend was now in charge and he had to know. It felt like ratting out a fellow grunt, but these men would work with aliens. Deal daily with alien life and culture. If Lennox's appearance already had them spewing off such trash, what would happen in even stranger situations? And Will could think of several. He had been through them already.

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Epps regarded him thoughtfully and Lennox knew something was happening in that brain of his. Something evil. Epps could be a bastard if he wanted to; he had learned from the best, too.

"Say, you still looking for a job?"

Will frowned. Sometimes he was going stir-crazy, sometimes he felt utterly useless, and sometimes he simply got the shit shot and beat out of him by Ironhide in their training sessions, which made him feel nothing at all from general exhaustion. Now and then he would join his old team for training, which always had him sweaty and dirty and bruised in the end. A really good feeling, he decided. Like old times.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I need to clear it with Banachek, but I doubt he'll have any objections. I want you to do the first screening of the candidates chosen for working at the base or with the Autobots – before they even set foot on base."

"What?"

"You heard me: you choose who gets to stay and who has to leave because he's some weird xenophobe underneath all the hard-ass soldier shit. I get the files, Will, I read them,. I look at their service records, I can talk to them a little, but I can't drag any of the mechs with me to confront them with reality. The military can brief them all they want, but the hands-on experience usually turns them into wrecks."

Lennox laughed. "You want me there in person?"

"How else?"

"Rob…"

"Hey, if they survive your looks and your selection process – and I know you can be just as hard-ass as they pretend to be – they are ready to work with the team. Have Ironhide along for some first contact and they won't piss their pants when they meet Barricade any more."

Will chuckled. "Yeah. Those not keeling over or running away screaming might just make it through the first rounds of questions."

Epps grinned toothily. "Right you are. So, you game?"

"I'm all game if Banachek says it's okay."

"Let me handle him. You just dig out your old officer handbook and get ready."

"Yes, sir," Lennox replied with a mock salute.

Epps threw a paper ball at him. "They're all yours. Show them your stuff."

Will laughed. "All of it?"

"Well, no robot sex or kinkiness. Everything else I leave to you."

Lennox rolled his eyes. As far as he was aware, Epps didn't know about him and Ironhide. He was aware of Sam's connection to Bumblebee, though.

"I won't even go protoform on them."

"Might just do the trick."

Will shrugged. "I'm not going to scare them to death, just give them the choice. They either pull their act together or leave. Simple as that."

Epps nodded. "You run into any trouble, holler. They're my men. You're the advisor; I'm the kick-ass commander."

Lennox grinned. "Yep, you are, Rob. Let me know what Banachek says. You know where to find me."

"Sure do. But I think as your first introduction to scaring the new guys you can start with the two problematic characters we acquired with this batch. Feel up to it?" Epps challenged.

"You sure you want them running?"

That got Lennox a laugh. "Do what you have to."

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That's how 'confrontational training' was born. It wasn't on any kind of schedule, not even officially in a report, but the core unit soon picked up on it as the recruits got to see Lennox more and more often. He lived out his role as consultant and whatnot, filling in when one of the lieutenants or even Epps himself was mysteriously not available, and generally made a point of not appearing in long sleeves, except when it was still cool in the morning.

It was easy to fall back into his role as a military man, Will mused. He hadn't buried the Major deep enough and stepping back into the commander role was like he had never been away. Those who had fought with him in Mission City and had been under his command until the accident treated him like they had always done. As if he had never been away. Epps spent a lot of time in Washington or San Francisco, talking to Banachek, and whatever else was needed of him. Mostly it had to do with clearing Lennox for the work that he was best suited for: selecting their new unit members.

Some of the new ones reacted with interest to his suddenly regular presence, one or two with moderate discomfort, and those two Will had listened in on with disgust. He wondered how their screening had gone because it must have missed out on some aspects of their not-so-shining personalities. He had read up on them in their files and found nothing out of the ordinary. They were good, qualified, had had missions abroad, but this was clearly over their heads.

It was when Jonesy, one of the old crew, reported an incident with Jazz that Lennox knew he needed to up the ante and confront the men head on. Jazz was one of the easiest mechs to be around, aside from Bumblebee, and to piss him off was truly an amazing feat.

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"If you have a problem, say it now." Lennox gazed coolly at the two who he had called into Epps' office – without Epps being there.

"No problem, sir."

"Don't bullshit me, private," he addressed the taller one. Private Dabasso, he reminded himself. The other was Tomas. "I've had my share of Marines and they were better at bullshitting me than you two. You knew what this meant. You were thoroughly briefed."

Tomas looked a little uneasy. "No one said anything about…" He stopped.

"About me?"

"Sir."

Lennox smiled wryly. "I'm not in the briefings, private."

"We were told about Mission City and everything. We were briefed on the alien life forms. I can handle giant robots, sir," Dabasso said.

As if. Dabasso had been the one who had been heard talking about Ratchet as if he was a giant medical machine, not a sentient life form.

"But not me?" Lennox asked coolly.

"It's just… strange, sir."

"Get used to it. You work here, you get to see a lot of strangeness. Mine's just more visible."

"Sir."

Lennox knew that they had been told about Sam, that he was another civilian with the highest clearance at the base. Not a scientist, not military, but part of this and at the top of the command structure should he choose to issue an order. That hadn't sat well with Tomas. He came from a research station and while his military conduct was perfect, he had been known to talk derogatively about scientists. All that Lennox had only found out after calling a few people and digging around.

"You can still go back, privates. This isn't a permanent assignment. We need people we can rely on here, people who can ignore the weird and look past the strange. This," and he raised a rune-covered hand, "is weird and strange and freaky. Believe me, I know. It'll get even stranger by the time you finish your third month on the base. Now the question is, can you work with me or not? Can you work with Sam Witwicky? Can you work with the Autobots?"

Dabasso shifted unconsciously and Tomas had his eyes on the wall, standing to attention.

"Think about it, privates. There's a ride going back to Nellis in twenty-four hours. Either you get your act together or you're on it. Good day."

They pulled off an almost perfect salute and walked out the door. Lennox leaned back against the desk and shook his head.

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"So I heard you scared the newbies."

Lennox grinned at his taller friend. "I'm getting good at it."

Ironhide's optics reflected his amusement. Will grew more serious.

"But seriously, they need to handle this or leave. Rob can't have people that scare at the slightest freakiness in his team. I'm a mildly freaky appearance to, say, you guys."

"You scare them more because you're human," Ironhide rumbled, not the least bit offended.

Will nodded, no longer surprised at the mech's astute power of observation. Ironhide hid a lot underneath his trigger-happy and grumpy exterior.

"You guys are completely alien. They can work with that after a period of adjustment. Having a human, a former fellow soldier, turn out to be a mutant is different. They might wonder if it can happen to them, if they have to be extra careful, and so on. Sam they can handle. He's normal on the outside and his powers don't threaten them. Me, I'm an unknown." He shrugged.

"You're not a freak, Will," Ironhide said quietly, repeating what he had said dozens of times before. It never got old; it was never one too many.

"I know, I know. You guys keep reminding me of it."

"Maybe one day your under-developed, organic brain might even register it," came the sarcastic reply.

Will chuckled. "One can only hope."

He looked at his tattooed skin, watched the runes lazily swirl around his wrist. Some didn't even move at all. None ever stayed permanently anywhere, aside from the one on his neck and shoulders, and Ironhide's name around his wrist. On some days, his face was almost completely free of any glyphs or runes, and on other days he had then all over the place.

"Well, my work's done for today. Time to work on my tan," he announced lightly.

Ironhide watched him go, then followed.

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Twenty-four hours later Private Dabasso was on his way back to Nellis, Private Tomas was still at the base. Epps just gave Will a nod, not commenting.

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Another twenty-four hours later Will's new job had finally been cleared with Banachek and whoever else needed to give his consent.

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The flight to Nellis two weeks later was both liberating and filled with tension for Will. Liberating because it was the first time he didn't have to hide; and tense for the same reason. A chopper had picked him up, much to Ironhide's grumbling. Apparently the black mech had wanted to come along, but Prime had vetoed that, stating that for the first meeting between Lennox and the airbase commander, Major General Henry Dunn, they would go by military procedure.

The crew of the chopper greeted Will like they would anyone and Lennox hoped he wasn't showing off more glyphs than necessary on his face. He had decided on long sleeves again, kept his hands out of sight as much as possible, and the baseball cap helped, too. No need to scare anyone more than necessary.

He had talked to Dunn before and he knew the men 'handling' him had been briefed, knew what to expect. It sounded like he was some kind of dangerous artifact.

Great.

When he had voiced that thought, Sam had accused him of projecting.

The base had a population of nearly nine thousand people, spread out over an area of forty-six square kilometers. The chances that all of them got to see Will were slim. Still, he was careful on that first day. Not that he would ever go into the residential areas.

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The first meeting went well, though it didn't happen in the base commander's official office. To keep Lennox's presence a secret he had moved everything into a different area and the possible candidates would be shuttled there by hand-picked pilots. The whole operation was under tight wraps and aside from Dunn, only two other members of his staff knew what was really going on.  
Dunn offered Will all the help he wanted, showed him the office he would use for the crew interviews, and introduced him to Captain Mike Bowman, his personal liaison on the base. Bowman was a tall, amiable guy with sharp blue eyes, the usual crew cut, and a likeable smile. He would shadow Lennox, accompany him wherever he needed to go, would be the go-between in case of problems, and he would even fly him back and forth from base to base should Will request a lift.

"I looked at your service record, Major," Dunn said as they sat down in the office again. Bowman wasn't present.

"I'm no longer on active duty, sir."

Dunn inclined his head. "Maybe not on paper, but I think Mr. Banachek made it clear that while the title is obsolete, the rank is still there. You were the first liaison to the Autobots. You helped pave the way. I respect your work and Captain Epps gave me an idea as to who you are."

Lennox frowned. "He did?"

Dunn smiled. "Nothing bad. Your service record speaks for itself."

As does my skin, Will thought darkly.

"The SecDef made it clear to me what he expects of my base and my men. I can assure you, Major, there won't be an incident. You can move freely around the base. Captain Bowman is your personal contact. Talk to him about whatever is required."

"Thank you, General."

"Don't thank me, Major. I've talked to Captain Epps and I know of the problems with the selection process. It's hard to get across what's it like out here, what's expected at the Autobot base. You can prepare men for war situations, deserts, jungles and open water, but aliens?"

Will smiled. "You don't have to tell me."

"I know. Well, Major, good luck with your new job," Dunn grinned.

Lennox gave an easy salute. "Sir."

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It wasn't much of a surprise that Ironhide was picking him up at the end of his visit instead of Lennox getting the air-ride service home.

"So?" the mech prodded.

"Subtle, 'hide," he teased.

"You want subtle? You talk to Jazz."

Lennox laughed. "It went okay. At least Dunn and his people have better manners and don't stare at me. Unlike the guys Epps has been getting. I think I can work with the base commander."

"Want some assistance?"

Will smiled. "Not right away, but since I'll be easing the new guys into working with you… having you around might help."

"There hadn't been much easing in with the others," Ironhide agreed. "Sometimes the gawking gets a bit tiresome."

Will burst out laughing.

"Hey, I feel like some dusty, old museum piece," Ironhide complained.

"You got the old part right."

"Watch it, Lennox!" came the growl. "You're easily chugged out."

"Oh, you wouldn't."

"Try me."

Will leaned back in the seats, enjoying the banter. They were almost home and while he had been happy to be out and about, even if it was just more or less around the corner at the desert air base, it was good to be home, too.

"Got plans?" he asked softly.

There was silence and he could almost hear the processors clicking. "Are you coming on to me?" Ironhide asked suspiciously.

He grinned. "What if I were?"

"Then you better stop teasing before we shock the new recruits even more."

While Will wasn't the exhibitionistic type, something inside him reacted to the low rumble. Maybe it was just the fact that the tension was easing. Runes swam over his skin, tell-tale of his thoughts.

Ironhide chuckled. "Humans," he muttered.

"Oh shut up! You started it!"

"I thought you didn't react to me," Ironhide teased mercilessly. "I'm not your kind. I'm not attractive to a human."

Lennox felt something inside of him curl with frustration and mild anger. "We're not talking sex here," he hissed, his mood changing abruptly.

Ironhide suddenly stopped and before Will knew what was happening, he was flung from the cabin and was rolling over the desert. He was smoothly back on his feet and glaring at the now transformed mech.

"What's your problem?" he demanded.

Ironhide knelt down. "The problem seems to be you. And you have it with me. When will you accept that what you feel and need is reflected by me? When will it enter your thick head that should you want to initiate a sharing or just be close, you can do so?"

Will clenched his hands into fists and glared more.

"Will," Ironhide coaxed. "Sometimes it's healthier to let go."

"I never was the type," he muttered.

And he had never been the type to talk about emotions. Sarah had read him better than he himself. She had known and he had been grateful for it. That way he didn't have to say what he felt. Now he was facing not only something he was still not accustomed to – a body that was no longer human – but also the fact that his partner was alien. He had to talk or live with the miscommunication.

Or he had to listen to his body.

Next thing I know we find ourselves in a dark corner of the base and groping, he thought, remembering his conversation with Sam.

"We should go home," he finally said, raising his eyes to meet the even, blue optics.

Ironhide tilted his head and a smirk appeared on his features, but he rose without a word and transformed.

Lennox knew this wasn't over yet and Ironhide had driven home another fact: there was a shared need, something that was stronger in Will because of his hybrid human body. Ironhide wasn't averse to experimenting with what this need turned out to be, but Lennox himself was too hesitant for now.

But only for now.

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His new job pre-empted all attempts of physical closeness with Ironhide for the next days. Will's first week on the base was spent finalizing his housing arrangements, as well as moving his office space into where he would live. In that regard it wasn't any different from living with the Autobots. Bowman had driven him to what looked like a former storage unit. It was spacey, it was in good shape, it had all the requirements and it was enough out of the way that casual passers-by wouldn't happen.

Bowman had several men clean it out and push in what looked like half an apartment home, including a TV set that would have made Epps cry with appreciation.

"You know that this beauty makes you the ideal host for the next football party," Bowman joked.

Will laughed. "Yeah, right. You bring the food, I'll bring the space."

A thought that immediately came to his mind was that this place was large enough for Ironhide to stand up in, and Lennox shut out all stupid ideas in that regard right away. He wasn't going to stay here indefinitely. This was a temporary assignment, a job, and he would be back at the base within a few weeks.

Over time he got to know his liaison a lot better over coffee and sandwiches. Bowman brought food with him whenever he came over for lunch. By the end of the first week Will's place was up and running and he had been given a few insights into who Captain Michael Bowman was. They had traded service stories, dropped a few hints as to dangerous missions and places they had been sent to, and generally found they were pretty much alike.

Bowman asked him quite openly about what had happened and Lennox told him. He knew from Dunn that Bowman and every other person on the base he could come in contact with, knew not to blab about Lennox's presence. Ever since Mission City, Nellis had become part of the secrecy. Its pilots had been the ones deployed against the Decepticons, had been killed by Starscream, and those who had survived knew it was better not to mention giant alien robots to the outside world.

Will found himself talking about the accident – which he couldn't really remember – the changes, the consequences, his 'death', the loss of his family. It was liberating in a way. Bowman in turn told him about his work for the 422d Test and Evaluation Squadron, about losing two of his best friends in a simple aerial maneuver over supposedly friendly grounds, his own crash, his rescue, his fight to remain in the service, and how he had finally been allowed back on active duty – just not back into a squadron again.

"That had to suck," Will commented.

"Not as much as giving it all up like you. You and your men were the heroes of the hour, Major."

Will laughed humorlessly. "We didn't feel like it, believe me. We survived and we handled it. Everything else after that…" He shrugged.

Bowman cleaned his plate of the last fries and wiped his hands on a napkin. "We lost men and civilians that day. I lost almost a whole squad of F-22s. I know it was a war and I know we won it for now. The question is, are we really prepared for another?"

Will met the sharp blue eyes. "You're never prepared for war, Captain."

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Lennox worked out an interview schedule for the candidates with Bowman and went through mountains of paperwork to read up on who had been chosen as candidates. Sometimes he spent whole nights over the files, which varied in size. After three nights he told Bowman he needed a secure method to dig around the candidates' backgrounds. Three hours later he had one, courtesy of Banachek.

In the end there were three stacks: the good, the bad and the questionable. Lennox knew he had to talk to all of them because a good service record didn't mean the best qualifications for the job. The questionable were the ones he couldn't make up his mind of. A fourth stack was created two days later when the internationals came onto his desk, too.

Will wondered who had chosen the candidates. They came from all over the spectrum: the US military, the FBI, the CIA, and even beyond. There were four Canadians, two Australians, two British, three Germans and one Frenchman on the list. All had worked with the US military before, had been on classified missions or had been set on tasks they would never be able to talk about to anyone but their immediate superior. A Mexican and another Canadian were added by the end of the day and he groaned to himself.

Bowman stuck his head in at the end of his shift, took one look at Will, the amount of coffee consumed, and smiled.

"Need help?" he asked.

"Nah. You go and catch some sleep. I'll take this stuff and just shred it," Lennox replied.

The Captain laughed. "That bad?"

"Worse."

"When do you want to start the interviews?"

"End of the week," Will sighed. He held up a list. "I wanted to give that to you tomorrow. Those are the guys coming in first."

Bowman walked up to him and took the sheet of paper. "Mail me the list," he said after running an expert eye over the names and ranks. "I'll set everything up."

"Thanks, Captain."

"You're welcome. And by the way, there's a frigging huge Topkick sitting out in the dark and waiting for you."

Lennox blinked. "What?"

"He came in an hour ago."

"What?!"

The other man chuckled. "He had the clearance and secure ID. Showed it to the guard at the main gate. Go and get some sleep, Major. And tell your friend hello."

With that he left the office.

Will was out ten minutes later and looking for Ironhide.

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He actually spent the night with Ironhide, who had rolled in the back door of the former storage facility. They hadn't talked much, just enjoyed being together, and something inside Will had curled up with happiness. He smiled even more as he thought of Ironhide's attempts to fine-tune the holographic image without drawing too much power. Lennox had been only too willing to help with that. He had fallen asleep on his couch somewhere around three in the morning and only woken when a gentle caress over his chest roused him. Ironhide's optics had hovered over him, watching him all the while he had gotten up, thrown his clothes off and showered. While the naked human body wasn't exactly a turn-on for mechs, the very idea that his partner had watched had left him rather hot and bothered. Ironhide had found it increasingly interesting and amusing.

Drying his hair, Will looked into the mirror, noting the pale runes on the left side of his face, running over his cheek and temple. They drifted slowly, lazily, and where the display had been rather bright yesterday, it was barely visible today.

He sighed softly.

Things were still changing, though not as quickly and scarily as before. Then again, his growing attraction to the black mech was scary sometimes. He had never been interested in anything but soft curves made of flesh and blood. Ironhide was neither human nor curvy or female. While Will could overlook the gender issue now – he had had a lot of time to think about that throughout long nights lying awake – there was still the fact that humans weren't attracted to giant metal beings on a regular basis.

Part of him was. A part he couldn't blame on the Allspark.

"I wish we had the time to experiment with this," he told his reflection. "Because it scares the hell out of me."

Walking back into the main area, he found Ironhide sitting on the ground, waiting.

"You need to leave?" Lennox asked.

"Prime hasn't given me anything to do, so I could stay," was the careful reply. "You have enough parking space in the back."

Will nodded. He was actually kind of relieved Ironhide would be staying. Suddenly a smile crossed his lips.

"I think I'll introduce you to Captain Bowman. He's been wanting to get to know some of you guys."

"Candidate?"

"Nope, my liaison. He'd make a good addition to the base if I could persuade him to leave Dunn and Nellis behind."

Ironhide tilted his head. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

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Second Lieutenant Andrew Burn knew that the day he had been called to appear personally at Nellis Airforce base his career was about to change. His Captain had talked to him about someone taking an interest in his skills. Not that he was a particularly talented pilot; no more than the others. He knew how to fly and he flew everything with wings or a rotor. He had shipped people into all kinds of locations, had been in war zones, at the end of the world, in heat, in cold and he had been under fire before. So he could handle himself in difficult situations.

When his superior had told him to fly to Nellis and talk to a Captain Bowman, he had done so. Meeting Bowman, he had been told he had been chosen as a candidate for a special unit and would he be interested. What was Burn to say? Special units had been his life already. He had never served a regular unit anyway. There had always been secrecy and undercover missions.

Now it was the same.

So he was told he would talk to the liaison responsible, Major Will Lennox.

Burn had expected everything, but not a man in civilian clothes, with a clearly military air around him, in an office that had been set up in an old storage unit at Nellis. He also hadn't expected the… things on his skin. Burn was trying not to stare, but it was hard. Something was moving over the tanned skin, like some weird symbols or strings of writing. Burn was no language buff, but the things looked more like some kind of ancient glyphs than anything else.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Lennox said calmly, as if he wasn't covered in weird stuff that was moving. That was the most eerie thing. If they had been tattoos, sure. But moving symbols?

Okay, he knew guys who would love to get something like this tattooed on their bodies. Some of his buddies were tattooed and proud of every single needle mark. Still… eerie.

"I know Captain Bowman already mentioned the classification of what we are about to talk about, as well as what you see."

_Like you?_ Burn thought.

"But I want to remind you again. Nothing I'll tell you now is a joke. Nothing that will be shown to you is an elaborate set-up."

"Yes, sir," he answered automatically.

Lennox smiled. "Do you believe in alien life, Lieutenant?"

Burn looked at the other man, carefully running the possible answers through his head. Finally he said, "If it was undoubtedly proven, yes, sir."

"Good answer. What would you say this is?" Lennox raised his hand, showing Burn what looked like a band of those strange glyphs etched unmoving around his wrist.

"I don't know, sir."

"If I told you it was the result of an accident with an alien device that should have killed me but didn't, would you believe it?"

Now his head started to spin at least a little bit.

"Would this be proof enough?" the Major pressed on.

"It could be a skin condition, sir."

Lennox chuckled. "One heck of a skin condition. No amount of acne cream will help."

"Sir."

Lennox studied him. And then, without elaborating on the 'skin condition', came easy questions about Burn himself, about his background, about his qualifications, about his family, or lack thereof. Burn had never been married, had no children, and his parents were dead. He knew it had made him an ideal candidate in the past already. No ties, no one to ask about where he was going or where he had been. It was what had apparently appealed to Lennox as well.

But then a different kind of questions started.

Yes, he had heard about Mission City. Terrorist attack. There had been rumors by the UFO freaks that it had been an alien attack.

And it had been an alien attack.

Burn stared.

He knew he should be saying something, but all that came out was "Sir?"

Lennox smiled calmly. "You heard me, Lieutenant. You're a smart man, Burn. It's why you are here."

"But…"

"I was there, Lieutenant. I was there and I was in Qatar where my men, my whole base, were taken out by an alien mechanical life form. We won the battle. We allied ourselves with the good guys. For the past seven years we have lived with alien mechanoid life forms among us."

Burn felt his head spinning.

"The unit currently working with those life forms, the Autobots, needs manpower. I chose you out of many other pilots because you have a clean record, you show you can adapt quickly to situations, and because you work well with people of different nationalities. We don't need xenophobes, Lieutenant. We need people who we can trust, who are willing to take a chance, and who will trust not only in their human commander and fellow soliders but will also follow an order from our allies should need arise."

"Ah, yes, sir," he said unsteadily.

Lennox smiled more. "And since you haven't run screaming from my office in the past hour, I think you're good material for that task."

"Sir?"

"You've seen the runes on my skin. The 'skin condition'. You are wondering what the heck they are."

"It's none of my business, sir."

"It will be because I live at the Autobot base, too. You will see a lot more of me. I am human, Lieutenant, despite the looks. You'll get the full briefing from Captain Epps at the base, if you accept your new posting."

Burn was still reeling, but he didn't have to think about it twice. "Yes, sir!"

Lennox nodded, closing the folder on his table. "You'll be staying at Nellis for a while, before your transfer. Captain Bowman will make sure all your personal belongings are sent here."

"Thank you, sir."

Another nod. "Dismissed, Lieutenant. See you around."

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Another week later Lennox had already spoken to several more candidates and he had to give it to the men: they were truly professionals. Their service records were perfect and they didn't keel over in a dead faint when they met Will. Some regarded him with curiosity, but they were professional enough not to ask any questions then, nor did they discuss their interviews anywhere on base.

Choosing Burn had been gut instinct, coupled with an impressive service record. Others had been more difficult to pick out. So far only one other man had made it into the second unit Epps would command. They were going international now and aside from working with alien life forms, the unit would also interact with different cultures of their own planet. Just having a Canadian and an American on the same team could be problematic, but add a British or French or Australian, and things could really escalate off duty. So selection was carefully done.

By the end of the second week he had four men and three different nations. Epps was going multi-cultural, Will mused to himself.

For the first time in a long time Will Lennox felt truly like he was needed again, that he had a purpose, a job, and he enjoyed it immensely, even if talking to several dozen men and women was repetitive, tiring and sometimes exhausting.

Ironhide had stayed. It was actually a very good feeling to have him here, especially since what happened inside his temporary home stayed in his temporary home. Not that anything censured or x-rated occurred anyway.

Bowman had been only too excited to meet an Autobot and he and Ironhide talked now and then. It was clear that the captain would love nothing more than to work with the Autobots, but for now he was assigned to Nellis and, he had confessed, he loved his work. Will wondered if they might need a liaison and kept that in mind. Just in case.

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Being with Will was different from being with someone of his own kind. Ironhide had been aware of the differences between them from the get-go. It was hard not to be. Will Lennox was human, was smaller, was an organic, had no clue about Cybertron, just like Ironhide had had no real idea about Earth. Cultures clashed, different minds met, and somehow, through it all, they had become friends. With the accident, that friendship had changed, had tightened, and the next step to sharing with the other had been almost natural.

But Will was still different. For all his shape-changing abilities, for all his protoform looks, he wasn't one of them.

And Ironhide was slowly becoming aware of how much he in turn had changed because of it. It were small things, the way he looked at something, how he handled himself, how he let his mind wander when it came to the human. As much as they were different, they were a similar breed – warriors foremost.

The way he shared with Will was not like what he was used to either. He had only had one more than casual relationship and that had been Chromia. She was lost; he had no idea whether she was at all functional any more, and it hadn't been a spark bond. That had never happened to Ironhide and Will wasn't his bonded either. He was alien and new and still, now, familiar.

Nothing compared to this.

Not even Bumblebee's semi-bond with Sam. Sometimes Ironhide envied his younger friend his connection. It was so much easier, he had less problems with inter-cultural clashes, and Sam just knew what his partner felt. Ironhide had never been much of a talker when it came to himself. Neither was Will. What they had shared already had been given freely, though it was hardly one's life story. Tiny fragments of the whole pieced together over time became a picture.

Looking at the human stretched out before him, Ironhide let his optics linger on the lazily moving runes. Today they were mostly Cybertronian, with just a spatter of cosmic code and a few singular glyphs of ancient Cybertronian. The sun played over the tanned skin as it fell through the open skylight of the temporary home on Nellis. It was Sunday afternoon and everything was quiet; no interviews, no debriefings, no calls, no work at all. Lennox had declined going back to the Autobot base. It was so much calmer here, with people on weekend leave, families out and about, and Ironhide could only agree.

Will looked relaxed, totally at ease, and it was such a contrast to the normally tense and controlled behavior his human friend had adopted.

The past several weeks at Nellis had changed Will subtly. There was a new purpose in his life, a challenge, and Ironhide found that the challenge and purpose also came with an unexpected openness. Times spent together suddenly had new additions; they had started to experiment more, and Ironhide himself had been pestering Ratchet about the holo emitters until the medic had nearly blown a gasket.

But Ironhide was happy for his friend.

Too much had been thrown at him. Too much was still happening.

Like their compatibility.

Ironhide knew Will enjoyed it. He himself did so, too. But humans had different needs. Their interaction in that regard was drawn out, consisted of touching before and after the actual act. Ironhide found it messy, to say the least, with too much bodily fluids involved. He had downloaded and viewed all kinds of material on the subject and he wondered how the species had been able to procreate so successfully. The human body enjoyed the act, but the logistics involved, the very danger to the body as it heated up and almost went on overdrive, had Ironhide puzzled.

He couldn't give this to Will and Lennox had never asked for it. It was probably because of the gender difference involved when it came to human copulation. Ironhide could download all the facts, but the understanding was lacking. So he kept back and watched.

Optimus had approached him about the unusual relationship. Ironhide had almost laughed at how his commander had tried to be discreet and still find out the truth about it all.

"We're working something out between us," he had only said.

"I see." Blue optics gazed quizzically at him. "Does Will understand what this entails?"

"More than I do, Prime."

That had gotten him the equivalent of a quirked eyebrow.

"Working on it," Ironhide had only repeated.

And they were. A life filled with compromises because of their differences.

Checking his energon count he calculated he had enough for his hardlight hologram, and he transformed. It was easier to be on four wheels than two legs when it came to depletion problems.

Will had moved, tensing a little in alarm, when he had heard the transformation kick in. He almost knocked the holographic projection in the head when Ironhide appeared.

"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Don't do that!"

Ironhide smirked. He and Will had worked on the projection and it looked more or less human now. There were still the unnaturally blue eyes, which the mech found he actually preferred. He didn't think of himself as human and having the image look and feel so real… he wanted others to be reminded that he really wasn't. Not that many saw this. So far, only Will had and he didn't complain about the looks.

"What are you doing?" Lennox asked, eyes narrowing.

"What does it look like?"

"Solving another puzzle," the human mumbled and lay back down again.

Ironhide was surprised, but then he chuckled. "Yes."

"Do I have to move for that?"

"No."

"Good. Puzzle and solve away."

When Ironhide's very solid hand touched the warm skin, Lennox jumped and bit back an expletive, shooting the hologram a dark look.

"You said…"

"I know what I said!"

Eyebrows rose in a 'So?'

More grumbling, but Will let him continue to caress the warm skin, watch the runes. Muscles relaxed and the harder lines in Will's face smoothed out.

"Nice," he got as a comment after a while.

They rarely had such close contact. Even when working on the hologram, spending the nights at the base and in very close proximity to Will, he had stopped at becoming intimate. Human intimacy was something he was only just learning about.

Ironhide had no similar experience to compare this to. His metal skin wasn't receptive enough. Jazz's micronet might give the silver Autobot an edge when it came to experiencing human touch, but Ironhide had never seen any sense in it. The hologram was even less responsive, but he had had Ratchet work out a few problems and the medic had installed a new feature. It allowed Ironhide to switch on an additional, sensory booster, which enabled the hardlight projection to relay the sense of touch. Of course it drew more power, but if Ironhide played it well, he could use it for a good length of time.

Experiments. Compromises. They defined their lives.

A string of runes swirled around his fingers and Ironhide chased them over the tanned skin, amazed at the responsiveness of both the human and the Allspark part.

A sigh escaped Will.

Ironhide studied him. "Are you unhappy?"

Will's eyes flew open and he twisted around again. "What?!"

"Your old life still weighs on you despite everything. I can't change it, can't help you."

Lennox rolled onto his back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ironhide, wait a sec! I'm happy. I'm fine! This… between us… it works, okay? I'm not complaining."

Ironhide was doubtful of it, but the human looked so sincere. His hand now rested on the warm skin of Will's chest and he regarded the glyphs curiously.

"Humans get those moods, 'hide. We're just like that. It's been a year since the accident. My anniversary, so to speak. It's a long time, but not really long enough. Working through this… sometimes I get these moods and then… you just gotta let me run with it. What you do… it's more than enough. Don't work yourself in a knot, okay?"

Ironhide let a finger trace over a line of pulsing runes. They spelled 'warrior'. They were always there, on Will's skin, moving about, never at the same place. They reminded him more than anything that the human was more than a small organic. He was a warrior. He was his companion. They were equals.

Will didn't withdraw, didn't move away, made no attempt to stop Ironhide's caress.

"We're doing fine," his human friend said softly.

Ironhide regarded him steadily. "Sometimes you want more."

"So do you. We both need to compromise. We both need to grow into this. It's still changing and has too many variables, Ironhide. I keep learning about myself, about you, and all of it takes time. And it's me who has the more regular freak-outs."

"You're entitled to."

"After a while it should stop."

"There's no deadline, Will."

That got Ironhide a chuckle.

"The job helps," Will went on. "A lot. I get to interact with other people, not just Sam and the unit. I get out, even if it's just a few hundred miles around the corner."

"You enjoy it."

"Yeah."

"You haven't okayed any of them yet, though."

Lennox sat cross-legged, looking at Ironhide's hand on his forearm as the hologram traced the runes that seemed to eagerly swirl around his fingers.

"It's nothing to take lightly, joining a special unit. And Epps has a very special unit. You can't just transfer out of it after a few trial months. This is top secret stuff until your presence might one day be known to all of mankind. It's a small step that the team is becoming more international already."

And with the small steps came the larger steps in their relationship. Lennox felt free,; more free than anytime before. Something inside of him had broken open and finally blossomed, and looking into the fake blue eyes in a fake human face, he smiled.

"Would you feel more at ease if the hologram was female?"

Okay, whenever he thought he had Ironhide pegged, he got thrown for a loop once more.

"What? No!"

"Your society seems to have trouble with two individuals of the same gender being closer, being compatible."

"Ironhide…!"

"By your definition, we are male."

"Are you going into gender issues now?!"

"The definition of gender is 'type', 'sort' or 'kind'. We are of a different kind, but your people keep referring to gender as something sexual," Ironhide told him.

Will sighed. "We keep going back to the sex."

"Your language is difficult to understand."

"You downloaded more than just English," Lennox pointed out.

"And each language has its obstacles. If it bothers you, I can change my set-up."

"Good gawd!" Will groaned. "You sound like you're nothing but a machine where I flip a switch and it changes programs!"

Ironhide regarded him seriously. "You keep many secrets already. Being seen with a male image of myself, touching you…"

"I don't give a fuck, okay?" Will exploded.

Why was it they always ended up with him losing his temper over something menial?

"This isn't… Listen, our relationship… is different from anything that could happen here on Earth, Ironhide. Or on Cybertron. That you're male by our definition… hell, I don't care!"

"You were never attracted to your own gender."

"How would you know?" he challenged.

The inhuman blue eyes just looked back at him, no holographic muscle moving.

"Okay, so I wasn't, but this… us…" Will failed at the words. "For me there's no gender involved. Hell, the emotions involved are nothing I've ever experienced before. I'm not confusing you with a woman or a man or even a human being, 'hide. I wouldn't do this if I had those issues. Believe me, I'd never have started anything of the like if it grossed me out or made me sick or something."

Will knew he had crossed boundaries with their relationship. Not just one or two; many.

"I'm not sick of your company either," was the careful reply. "Not for selfish reasons either."

Will smirked. "Long time no sharing?" he teased.

Ironhide glowered at him. He felt an alarm tingle through him, a first one. He had another twenty minutes left if he played it close.

"Ironhide? Don't waste energon."

He smiled. "So you are technopathic?"

"No, I can hear the alarm klaxons."

The mech frowned. Will laughed.

"There was a flicker in your eyes. Very tell-tale. Switch it off. I'm done sunbathing."

Ironhide transformed as he let the image disappear. His friend pulled on his t-shirt and stretched. It was easy to see how relaxed Will was and the runes gave it to him in writing, so to speak. Lennox placed a brief, firm hand against Ironhide's leg, then gave it a pat.

Theirs was one of the strangest relationships, even compared to Bumblebee and Sam, who had less problems relating to each other on a more intimate basis. But it was working out.

Will smirked a little.

And the day the soldiers got wind of that little tidbit, information they weren't privy to and wouldn't find out about unless Lennox wanted it, life would become even more interesting.

For some reason, Will couldn't care less. His relationship with Ironhide was a private matter and he wouldn't reveal it to anyone he didn't trust implicitly. Nor would Ironhide tell anyone about something he thought was only between them, least of all their human allies.

He sent a tingle over Ironhide's skin and the blue optics narrowed, growing brighter, as they locked onto the innocent human ones.

"You are developing new abilities," the mech remarked.

"Comes in handy," was the casual reply.

"What for?"

"When I don't want to spell it out."

Now the light was even brighter. Will smirked, then let the protoform take the place of his human appearance.

"We gotta work on that foreplay," he only said as sockets connected and energy flowed between the two different beings.

"I'm a fast learner," Ironhide replied, tightening his hold, pulling him closer.

The rest was drowned in the pulse of pure energy that connected a spark with hybrid cells. Runes flared brightly and Will knew this was too brief, way too brief, but a relief nevertheless. Air hissed out of his lungs, or whatever doubled as lungs in this form, and he felt a massive arm around his waist, holding him up. His nerve-endings tingled and Will knew his optics glowed brightly with the overload of sensation and energy.

"Wow," he only whispered roughly.

"Was it good for you, too?" Ironhide teased, but the unsteady edge told Lennox that his partner had enjoyed it just as much.

"Jazz is a bad influence on you," the human hybrid replied. "You watch too many soaps."

Ironhide removed his fingers from the interface sockets, running a hand over the smooth protoform metal.

"I keep learning interesting things."

"From soaps?!"

The grin said it all. Will felt like slapping him.

"I think we should work off the energy," he muttered.

He easily reverted back to his human form, feeling less shaky after a sharing than in his protoform appearance, and Ironhide transformed. He climbed into the cab, noting the lazily drifting runes, barely visible under his skin.

_Satisfied_, he mused.

Ironhide's engine purred with the same satisfaction as they left the storage facility and headed toward the main gate. It was a nice day for a drive and Will felt it would also be a great day for a swim. There were bodies of water not too far away and he didn't have to be back until Monday.

Yeah, that sounded good.

Really, really good.

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Four months later the second unit stood. Banachek gave his approval, though that was only a pro-forma signature, and mentioned that he wanted to keep Will as a liaison to Nellis.

Lennox was speechless, but he accepted. Bowman would be his counterpart on the military's side.

"So, what do you say, Major?" Banachek asked calmly.

"I'm no longer in the service," Will replied automatically.

That got him a brief smile and raised eye-brows.

"Okay, I accept," Lennox finally said.

"Good. Arrangements have been made. You still only report to Optimus Prime and myself, to clear that up. Captain Epps also requested that you take over the unit's training whenever he is unavailable. I've heard it has happened already and it known as 'confrontational training'?"

Will nodded.

"Keep at it. These men might one day be confronted with another Decepticon attack. I don't want them shooting at friendlies or to freeze up because of the alienness of the enemy."

"Neither do I," Lennox replied.

Banachek gave him a nod, then took his briefcase and left. Will knew the man had a meeting with Prime about something. Lennox shuffled a few more files around his desk – in his own office, which Epps and the guys had arranged for him – then left he room and went looking for Ironhide.

He found his friend in the weapons shop where the mech was tinkering with something or other.

"Hey. Whatcha doin'?"

Ironhide looked down at him, holding one huge cannon in his hand. "Weapons testing."

"Cool. Going to the range?"

"Later."

"Call me?"

"Will do."

Lennox gave him a brief smile, then sauntered off. He felt hungry and weapons testing meant a lot of time outside, probably several hours, so food was a good idea right now. He headed for the kitchen to see what the guys might have as leftovers. He was in the mood for pasta.


	14. Reunion

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TITLE: Reunion  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
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direct sequel to Relations  
references made to Imperfections: Predator

I might have to duck and run for this fic. The idea hit me, I couldn't fight it... read at your own risk... ;)

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It had become something of a ritual. Their private time together. Sometimes they would go out into the desert, choose a nice spot, watch the landscape, enjoy the warmth. Sometimes they would drive to a near-by lake, decide on a sheltered spot, and stay there. Sometimes Ironhide would simply remain parked in the garage area of the former storage unit. Will would always lie back on his hood, back on the windscreen, enjoy their companionable silence as long as it lasted, would talk about this and that, would discuss files and possible candidates, and sometimes they would talk about very personal and private matters. But no matter what, Ironhide was simply happy to be with his human partner.

Will had a tendency to doze off when he was totally relaxed. Ironhide monitored his vital functions, took note of every little muscle twitch, every breath, every beat of his heart. He kept track of the lazily moving runes, just like he enjoyed watching them coalesce around his fingers when he touched Will.

Touches were traded when there was absolute privacy, never in an exposed area. The temporary base home was such a place at night and some very remote locations. Ironhide would track the runes, would files away new symbols, new combinations, and he would smile as he translated Cybertronian words.

Humans enjoyed touch.

This human just any other of his kind. Will might be a hybrid and able to become much more than simply human, but he was just as needy when it came to personal gestures as others of his kind.  
There was nothing sexual about it. Sometimes Lennox would make soft noises of pleasure, but Ironhide knew a lot more about humans by now to tell apart what those noises meant. Sometimes, like today, Will would switch into his protoform body. It usually ended in sharing, which resulted in Will changing back into human form, exhausted.

Ironhide looked at the human he was cradling against his chest armor as Lennox slept. He smiled softly, let a finger trail gently over the slender form, listened to the soft huff of breath as Will expressed his amusement at the gesture.

"Feels good."

Ironhide smiled and he didn't stop. It was a good feeling to be this close; a very good feeling.

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Will was in the middle of weeding through more files that had been dumped on his desk, courtesy of Banachek, when a name caught his eye. It rang a bell. He placed the file on one side, then continued to decimate his pile of papers until he was satisfied he hadn't missed anything.

Finally he took the file again, retired to his couch and started to leaf through it. He had heard the name mentioned by one of the lieutenants at the Autobot base when the men had been asked to make a list of possible unit members, recruited from wherever they worked now.

The base was becoming more active every month. People and material needed to be coordinated, supplies and inventory checked, and suppliers found for their needs. With the Autobot base that was a bigger job than any Air Base had ever been. They worked in secret and while they had connections, there was no central place to run everything through. For now, Epps and two sergeants were taking care of it, but it was a tedious process of keeping track of who did what and when and with whom.

They needed a logistician.

Interesting, Will mused as he went over the file of the person most suited for that job.

He reached for his wireless laptop. Unlocking it with his password he entered the military data base and started to pull information.

Impressive, too.

"Ironhide?" he asked into the quiet of the room.

"Yes?" came the dark voice from the other end of the storage room where Ironhide had parked silently for hours now.

"Where's Sam?" he asked.

"At the base. Why?"

Will studied the laptop's screen and the data displayed there. "Nothing," he muttered.

There was the distinct sound of transformation and Lennox almost rolled his eyes. Blue optics peered down at him.

"I think there's someone suited for the coordinator job," Will told his partner. "And he has ties to Sam."

Ironhide accessed the files on Lennox's laptop and rumbled a little. "Not exactly good ones," he remarked as he came across the link to the personal history of the candidate.

Lennox only nodded.

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Sam stared at the file. "You gotta be kidding me! He joined the Army!"

"Right out of high school. Well, after half a year of attending college and not getting anywhere, it seems."

"But… man, I never would have thought… Trent!"

Will smiled. "Staff Sergeant Trent DeMarco. Supply Coordination.

"And you had him on your alert list? Why?"

"Because he's good. According to his lieutenant he might just make it to officer."

Sam shook his head, speechless. "Are you going to take him?" he finally asked.

"While I usually make my decisions on my own, this is one case where I want your input, Sam. If he pans out, if his service record and his personality and all fit with our requirements, would you have trouble working with him?"

The younger man laughed a little. "Will, the last time I saw Trent he a) had tried to get me beat up and b) Barricade made his life hell. I know he doesn't know about Barricade, but he was a bastard in school, and I had his girl."

"Trouble then?"

Sam exhaled explosively. "I don't know. It's been almost eight years. I'd hope he has grown. I know I have. I know I changed. Maybe so did Trent."

"His records are clean. They are actually perfect. He even had a tour in Iraq. I know there are marks in his civilian records, but they were placed there by Barricade. Otherwise, aside from that planted information, he's a really good man."

"Huh. Trent." Another head-shake. "Well, if you think he's the right guy for… what's he doing?"

"Supply coordination."

"Yeah, that. If you want him because he's good, get him. I don't mind, really. I think I can kick his ass if he gets on my nerves."

Will chuckled. "You can do more than kick it, Sam. We trained you. He's a supply guy trained by the Army; you've been trained by Rangers and Marines, not to mention a Decepticon."

That got Lennox a grin.

"I'll have Bowman talk to him first like with all guys, then I'll have a whack at him. If he doesn't run screaming, we'll go the next step."

"If you take him, what about Barricade?" Sam asked quietly, a faint worry line on his forehead.

"I'll deal with it."

Sam shrugged. "Better you than anyone else."

Will smirked. "I think you have a better connection to him, aside from Jazz, that is."

"In a way," he answered carefully. "We… respect each other."

Sam knew the relationship was way more complex than just respect. He knew more about Barricade than anyone, except Jazz, and he knew the former Decepticon trusted him to keep that knowledge to himself. He would. What he had seen had been private information, not for his eyes, but the telepathic contact had revealed it nevertheless.

"I hope he respects my decision if I recruit DeMarco."

Sam nodded. "He will. He's a warrior, too."

Will smiled a little. "I'll let you know about my decision, Sam."

"Thanks. Man, I still can't believe it." He shook his head with a smile. "Trent in the Army. I bet his dad was pissed as hell. He wanted him in business college to take over his company."

Will chuckled. "Sometimes kids rebel."

"One hell of a rebellion."

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Trent DeMarco had been the typical high school jock, with a pretty girl-friend, a cool car, muscles, football success and parents who doted on him for almost all his teenage life. He had always been admired by lesser boys, girls had swooned over him and things had been pretty good until high school senior year.

Something had changed one day. Something had turned against him and it had started with Mikaela. For some reason she had dumped him and chosen that loser Witwicky. The other boy was a typical nerd. No success with girls, nor in sports, and while he was smart, he didn't look the girl-magnet part. Trent hadn't seen him hang out with anyone, let alone a girl, aside from his equally idiotic buddy Miles. Witwicky had been an awkward kid in pre-school who had turned into a geek in high school. Someone a person like Trent wouldn't want to be associated with.

They had traded insults instead of baseball cards. Sam kept on insulting Trent's intelligence and Trent had retorted with suggestive remarks about Sam's physical prowess. That had gone until senior year.

Then something had changed. Something in Sam had changed. One day he was trying to peddle off his junk in class, the next he was missing class, and then, two weeks later, he returned to school with a hot car and Mikaela as his girl-friend – who had been equally absent for the same amount of time. Rumors had spread like wild fire, especially since just two weeks earlier Mission City had been under attack from a terrorist group.

Neither Sam nor Mikaela had said anything concerning those rumors. They had kept their silence, shrugged, said they knew nothing. Some of Trent's buddies had muttered about seeing injuries with Witwicky, a bruise, cuts, signs of past injuries. Nothing had been confirmed. It had been strange. Still, the strangeness hadn't been enough to calm Trent's anger or have him ignore the fact that the other boy had stolen his girl.

Being seventeen, nearly eighteen, Trent had been hot-blooded and losing Mikaela to that geek had really irked him. He had gone as far as setting a bunch of other losers with no brain onto Witwicky, hoping to get him bruised and scared and running. His jock ego had been severely dented and hurt by losing a hot girl and his friends hadn't helped.

He had taken extreme measures, and things had really gone downhill from then on. False accusations against him, parking tickets he had never gotten were suddenly piling up, and the police were constantly at his parents' house. His so-called buddies had drifted away when things had gotten troublesome for Trent, leaving him out to dry.

His father was a successful business man and having a son who was in trouble with the law hadn't fit into his image. LA had been a new start for Trent. He had tried college, but found that he was no longer interested in economics, in becoming his father's heir to a company he didn't really want to inherit. So when a guy in uniform had handed him a flyer and asked him if he wanted an education and a job opportunity, he had said yes.

A month later he joined the Army. College courses followed. Trent wasn't bad in economics and he wasn't afraid of numbers, so he easily accomplished what had seemed like a drag at the UCLA. He had courses in management, operations research, resource allocation, statistics, and business or public administration, and his CO encouraged him to go for officer.

That he wasn't all too bad at acquiring what was needed – wherever he was, wherever he went – had served him well. Trent soon had a reputation to get everything from everywhere, even if it seemed impossible. He had had a tour of duty in Iraq, where he had managed supplies for a small base and astounded his superiors in how he handled requests. The language barrier had only hindered him for a few days until he had hired a translator he could trust and who knew what Trent wanted.

'Impossible means it has just not been done yet', had been a quote used around the man.

His Captain had been sad to see him return State-side after his time in Iraq had been up. It had been a learning experience for DeMarco, showing him something outside the box. He knew he had taken a lot with him from that time and it still served him well.

Throughout his supply manager career superiors had checked him a dozen times and rechecked the results of the investigations a dozen more, but everything he did was within legal limits. Trent had the ability to go by the rules, bending them only so much that it was still legal while skidding close to the illegal. Never enough for a conviction, let alone sound accusations. And what he supplied was never illegal either; those were necessary items to keep morale alive and kicking.

You needed something, you went to DeMarco. It was impossible to get within the time specified? Ask DeMarco. You needed more than what had been allotted to you? Ask DeMarco.

Trent was known to easily charm local suppliers, wrap them around his little finger, and then branch out from there. When he had left Iraq, he had had a tight network of supplies going and the new supply coordinator had been surprised how well-oiled everything moved.

Three months ago he got the call. Lieutenant Waters spoke to him personally, told him about a possible transfer, a new position, about career opportunities and the like. Trent listened to it all, but one thing stuck to him: Nevada, Nellis Air Base.

Two weeks after that he had an appointment with Captain Bowman. The initial interview was easy, his records were clean and perfect, and Bowman referred him to Major Lennox, who seemed to be liaison to some kind of special team that needed a logistician, a position he would be qualified for if he made Lieutenant. As Bowman had pointed out, the officer rank was a matter of signing the right papers if he got the job.

So Staff Sergeant Trent DeMarco walked into the office of Major Lennox, keeping his expectations low. It never paid to be too excited.

No expectations would have prepared him for the Major himself, nor what the next several hours revealed.

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Trent knew he was staring and with his background and training he shouldn't be staring at all.

He had done everything by the book. Straight line from the door, center himself on the senior officer two paces away from the desk. His eyes had been locked directly ahead in the correct position of attention – until he had thought he had seen something move. His eyes had flickered, had caught on to the strangeness… and he knew the moment he had seen that crawling thing on the Major's cheek, he had lost his position of attention.

"At ease, Sergeant," Major Lennox said without apparently taking note of his expression.

Trent tried to get his act together, but the weird symbols on the other man's skin were creeping him out.

"Sir," he only managed.

Lennox looked at him, a smile on his lips. The man wasn't in uniform, but Captain Bowman had told him that Lennox was an Army Ranger Major, liaison to the new unit, currently at Nellis, and he would decide on who got the job. Whatever was spoken here, whatever Trent saw, it would be top secret.

Now Trent understood why. At least when it came to visual stuff.

"You come highly recommended, sergeant. Lieutenant Waters praises your abilities. Your records speak for themselves. How would you feel about a challenge?"

DeMarco allowed his eyes to meet the dark brown ones of the Major.

"That's part of my job description, sir."

Lennox chuckled. "I see." He walked around the table and Trent tried not to stare at the bare forearms and the moving tattoos. "Let me show you what you are hopefully signing up for," the Major added and gestured at him to sit down.

Trent did as ordered.

The briefing he then got was the most fantastic, terrifying, awesome and fearful one he had ever been privy to.

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Will had watched Sergeant DeMarco's reactions throughout the briefing, the visual proof and everything else he had shown the other candidates before him. The man was openly fascinated and terrified, but he was taking it well.

"How long have we had alien contact, sir?" the sergeant asked, visibly fighting for control of his emotions.

"Eight years."

Lennox could see the wheels turning.

"So the rumors about Mission City were real?"

"Yes. Now, aside from working with mechanoids, you will also have civilians around you, sergeant."

"I'm used to working with civilians, sir. It's part of my job description."

"Scientists?"

"Them, too."

"Does the name Sam Witwicky ring a bell?"

Trent frowned, eyes narrowing a little, and while he tried to remain neutral, there was a tell-tale flicker in the blue eyes.

"I knew someone by that name in school."

"That very person is working closely with the Autobots. He was their first contact when they arrived on our planet, Sergeant, and while I can't reveal the precise nature of the ties he has with them, he is very much part of the unit."

"I understand."

"Any animosities between you and him from high school have no room in this."

"Sir, it's been eight years," DeMarco said calmly. "A lot has changed."

Lennox nodded slowly. "It has. For Sam more so than for you, Sergeant. There's no room for old grudges."

"I have none."

"Good to hear. You'll be shipping out at 0800 tomorrow, Sergeant. Your personal belongings will be transferred. Welcome to the Autobot base."

Trent gave him a brief smile. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored to be part of the team."

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Trent's office looked like the command center of a small military unit. Well, in a way it was. He had the usual desk, chair and lamp, a copy machine, a printer, a scanner, and all the machinery he needed. In addition he had been linked to Nellis Airbase to access their network for logistic matters. For the first few days he got himself an inside look into the inventory and supplies of the Autobot base. That got him sleepless nights. Aside from two sergeants, no one had ever taken matters into hands and kept track of their supplies. What was needed was ordered. The Autobots sent their own requests to Banachek, who in turn delegated it to whoever else was lower on the ladder than him.

Trent thought it was a nightmare. He was used to antiquated systems, to handwritten log-books in warehouses, to inventory lists in Cyrillic and Arabian writing, but this was… truly abysmal. The Autobot system was… well, the Autobot system. The humans did their own stuff. No one had tried to coordinate the two.

Now he knew why they had needed someone who easily adapted to new things.

Trent snorted, shaking his head. Yes, he had his work cut out for him.

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A month into his new assignment he had worked out a computer interface between Autobot and human systems with the help of Ratchet. The mech had brought the hard- and software together and Trent had implemented the programs he needed to track whatever was on the base, came into the storage facilities and left it again. Now he only needed the manpower and time to register everything, right down to the last screw in some old and rusty bucket.

At least he now had an idea what was needed on the Autobot side, he mused. Their requirements and orders for supplies differed immensely from the human population, of course. He didn't need to be a genius for that.

Trent set to work on finding suppliers for those orders. He first used Nellis' network to go on a scavenger hunt for suppliers in the area, those who had worked with the military before and knew that this wasn't just a handshake trade between two farmers. He then added some of the supply companies he had worked with himself in the past years. Using a military website where suppliers could advertise or offer contracts, he found several interesting ones, only to erase two of them immediately after checking them more thoroughly.

The next two weeks he spent talking to representatives of supply companies or store owners directly. He had gotten himself a car and had spent a week putting a lot of mileage on it.

In the end he had two contracts worked out, a third that might soon be signed, and several suppliers who promised to deliver without a contract to Nellis.

"Impressive," Epps had remarked when he had reviewed the papers. "Now I see where your reputation came from. Ratchet's quite happy about your help with coordinating supply orders, Lieutenant."

"It's my job, sir."

"And you do it well."

Trent had tried not to swell with pride, but there had been small slivers of satisfaction running through him.

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The first time Trent ran into Sam was in the kitchen area of the Autobot base. He had been under Captain Epps' command for three months now and his work had yet to be boring. Of course there had been set-backs, most notably when the joined system had crashed and taken everything with it. Ratchet had been grumbling to himself for days and Trent had simply kept out of his way, had done manually what had worked without electronics already, and now things were back up and running.

The Autobots themselves were something he had to get used to, especially the former Decepticon among them. While Barricade barely interacted with any of the humans, there was a strange gleam in his eyes whenever Trent was close by. He had no idea why, and he was wary around the rarely appearing mech, but since the others didn't interact with him either DeMarco figured that was just something alien.

Ratchet was a mech he was working together with on a regular basis. Bumblebee and Jazz were known to him, but he had barely exchanged three words, and Ironhide was mostly away with Lennox. He saw more of and talked to Optimus Prime often.

While Trent knew that Sam Witwicky worked for the aliens as well, was actually government employed, he had yet to meet him personally. The past few months had been too busy for him to surface from his office for more than a few hours of sleep, so he would even have missed the second coming. What he had heard, Witwicky was working on his first doctorate. Doctorate! It was so far-fetched, it fit right in with everything else that had happened already. Apparently Sam was some kind of whiz kid, but no one really talked about him specifically. He was good with any kind of machine, knew his way around a screwdriver, and the respect the men who had been in Mission City and with the Autobots after that had for Sam was immense.

After those three months, though, they ran into each other. In the kitchen, early in the morning. Trent had worked through the night to get their inventory up and running smoothly, and had needed some coffee rather badly. He walked into the kitchen and nearly bumped into someone.

"Hey, Witwicky," he greeted the other.

Sam blinked owlishly at him, then gave him a wary smile. "Uh, hi, Trent. Lieutenant DeMarco."

He snorted. "Dr. Witwicky then?" he taunted.

Sam flushed a little, but there was a much harder expression in his eyes than years ago, when they had last met. This wasn't embarrassment or awkwardness coloring his cheeks. It was something else. He had also grown physically. Gone was the more gangly look. There were muscles where Trent couldn't remember seeing any. His face was sharper and he carried himself like someone who had been with the Army, too. Trent could recognize former military because of how they walked and their overall bearing. Sam had probably gone through basic training, seeing that he worked with soldiers, and it had stuck.

They looked at each other and finally Sam's features shifted a little. He held out his hand.

"Hi. I'm Sam Witwicky. You can call me Sam."

Trent was surprised for a moment, then smiled as he accepted the offer for a truce. He took the hand.

"Hello, Sam. I'm Lieutenant Trent DeMarco, the logistician of the base. Call me Trent."

It got him a smile. "Hey, Trent. Long time," Sam remarked casually.

"And things have changed."

He was still walking carefully. This was the former high school teen who had been a thorn in his side. Sam had stolen his girl and it had sat badly with Trent back then. He was a different man now and so was Sam, apparently. Still, it paid to be careful at first.

"Coffee?" Trent offered.

Sam nodded. "Sounds good. You're up early."

"Or late. I was going through the inventory lists."

Small talk was good. It melted the ice between them and Trent wanted to work here as long as he could. This was a once in a life time chance. The past three months had shown him that and he liked his work.

"Oh. Okay."

"I didn't see you here before. You stayin' off base?" Trent asked and held out a freshly brewed coffee.

"I was working on my dissertation and things got too busy here. All those new men coming in, it was like Grand Central Station. I needed some quiet time." Sam drank of his coffee. "Done now."

They sat down.

"You're still a geek," Trent teased, grinning.

"And you're still a jock."

"Hey, mine was a compliment," DeMarco mock-protested.

Sam smirked. "So was mine. I think."

They shared a laugh.

Trent studied him for a while, silent. This was the boy who had saved their collective butts. Trent had gotten the info. People working here knew the short history of the Autobots and humans, and they knew Sam had played a vital role.

"I got the briefing on Mission City," Trent remarked. "And Hoover Dam."

"Yeah. It's mandatory."

"You were the hero of the hour."

Sam laughed derisively. "Trent, I was scared shitless and nearly died several times. I wasn't a hero. I survived, that's all." He shrugged. "I wouldn't even have been there if my great-grandfather hadn't been involved and if I hadn't inherited the glasses."

"The ones you tried to sell us in class?" Trent laughed.

"Yep, the same ones."

"Thank God I didn't buy them then."

Sam smirked. "We might be all dead now."

"Probably. You saved everyone, Sam."

Another shrug. "It's history. I'm not staking my future on the publicity."

DeMarco chuckled. "So you got into mechanics?"

"It fit. And I like it. It's a knack…" Sam stopped. There was suddenly a wary expression in his eyes. He drank more coffee, then switched the topic. "Why did you go military?"

_Okay_, Trent thought. _Delicate topic evasion tactics._

He knew those. He decided to follow the sudden detour and leave the reason for Sam's interest in mechanics be.

"It was all I could think of doing in LA. Wasn't much of a choice left otherwise."

"What about your Dad's business?"

Trent snorted derisively. "The old man wanted me to become his successor at all costs. Sure, I played football, just like him. I was the quarterback, like him. I never wanted to be him, though."

"Didn't look like that in school."

"No, it didn't." Trent shrugged. "I got what I wanted from my parents. I think it was the wrong stuff."

Sam studied him, those brown eyes way too intent and old for a guy his age.

"I never thought I'd be career military," Trent added, grinning. "But it worked out. I like it. It's like something I always wanted to do without ever knowing that it's right there, at my grasp. Never figured to see aliens, but hey…"

"You might get to see even more freaky stuff."

Trent regarded him solemnly. "Listen, Sam," he said, voice quieting down. "I know what you remember. I remember it myself. I did a lot of bad stuff and I endangered you with it. I paid for it."

Sam suppressed a wince.

"The military hasn't changed me or made me into a completely new man, but they showed me something: a future. Working this job… I'm all I can be. It's fun, it's exciting, it's more than business dynamics in flow charts and power point presentations at boring meetings. I'm doing something here."

"Will told me you're good," Sam remarked.

"I know where to get what we need. I think it's the best requirement for the job." Trent emptied his cup. "So, how's Mikaela?"

Sam blinked at the change of topic. Trent hid a grin at hitting his former school buddy out of the blue like Sam had just minutes ago with him.

"Uh, fine, I think. She's moved to LA with her Dad a few years back."

"So you guys split?"

He nodded.

"Too bad. She was one special lady. Hot body, too."

Sam laughed. "I agree."

"She knew about the Autobots?"

"She was right in the middle of it."

"Why did she leave?"

Sam fidgeted. "We got together while in the middle of a life-and-death situation. It was hot and exciting and she was the girl I always had dreamed about, but… we turned out to be better friends than lovers."

"Too bad. Anyone new?"

More fidgeting. "In a way," was the evasive answer.

Trent rose and refilled his coffee. "Another one?" he offered, but Sam declined.

There was a beep and he pulled out his cell phone. It was remote connected to his work station.

"Well, I'm off to check what the program has spit out," he sighed. "See you around."

Sam gave him a smile. "Yeah. See you."

DeMarco left, shaking his head. Sam Witwicky, doctor of engineering. He wouldn't have thought of ever seeing the guy again, let alone be able to talk so normally to him. Sam was an okay guy. With secrets, he mused. Those evasion techniques were nothing new to Trent. There were things still classified for the normal grunt that concerned Mission City, the Autobots, their Decepticon ally, and Sam Witwicky. Lennox was a mystery all of his own.

He didn't need to know specifics to do his job, Trent knew. Sam was part of this outfit, he was trusted, he was special. So much he knew and so much he accepted. His job was to make sure matters moved smoothly.

Everything else was unimportant; at least on a surface level. Trent knew he would keep his eyes and ears open.

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Six months into Trent's arrival at the base. Sam found Barricade still watching the supply officer and logistician with sharp optics. He knew from Jazz that the black mech had hacked into some files on his own – he had an access code, but he was too much of a Decepticon to believe that a code gave him all the access he needed – and was checking DeMarco's background for even the slightest glitch.

"It's a hobby," Jazz had remarked. "Keeps him happy."

Sam had taken one look at that shit-eating grin and had shaken his head. Yeah, happy Barricade. Better for everyone.

Sam and Trent had found they were easy friends, much easier than in school. They had shared a few beers over the last months, exchanging stories, catching up on their lives. Sam had been surprised to hear that Trent had no steady girl-friend.

"They dig the uniform, but there's nothing permanent," had been the remark and Trent had shrugged.

Trent's own questions as to Sam's relationship had been warded off. Sam wasn't ready to reveal his connection to Bumblebee and aside from Epps and one or two of the old unit, no one even suspected. It was a little far-fetched to think a human would have an intimate relationship with a mechanoid, especially when it became physical. Sam, in turn, would be hard-pressed to explain that physical touch went only so far and that technopathic connections, like the deep-link, was by far more intimate than anything else.

Sam found Barricade in the main hangar, standing to one side, sharp optics on the busy going-ons of unloading the trucks that had just arrived. There were lots of crates with numbers on them that told Sam nothing at all.

Trent was there, all business, directing the men where to go with what. The loading cranes were moving between the supplies, men pushed crates around with fork-lifts, and there were still trucks coming in or just heading out. DeMarco didn't even glance up from his tasks as Sam joined the silent watcher in the shadows.

:Back off, Barricade:

Red optics glared out of a dark and terrifying face. Maybe it were the words, maybe it was Sam's way of communication. The former Decepticon was never happy about direct mind-to-mind contact if it wasn't initiated by him first.

:He tried to kill you:

Sometimes Sam was still surprised about this strange kind of protectiveness. There was no reason for Barricade to hold a grudge, other than Trent indirectly almost killing someone Barricade thought of as worth protecting. A lot had changed in that perception over the years, but Sam still wondered about motivations sometimes.

:And you stopped him. You stopped those guys he told to rough me up: Sam added as clarification. :Trent never wanted to see me dead. He wasn't hiring killers.:

:How would you know:

He sighed. :Thanks for your concern, but it's been a while since I saw him. We talked and he has grown up. Just like I have:

Barricade didn't appear all too comforted or happy. Then again, he never did.

:I appreciate the concern: Sam added with a fine smile. :But it's okay:

Gleaming claws flexed. :His presence here is unnecessary:

:The best men for the job: the young engineer quoted. :His records are perfect, his abilities are needed. You don't have to work with him. He's Epps' concern. Just try not to make his life too hard, okay:

Barricade's optics narrowed. :You trust too easily, human:

:I trusted you:

The smirk was quite open. :I rest my case:

Sam laughed. He knew how to take Barricade and the concern truly warmed him. While they no longer trained regularly together, Barricade had become something of a guardian himself. Bumblebee would always be Sam's primary protector, but the black mech had taken over as his back-up, and he had been there countless times before.

:If he steps out of line, I'll be sure to call you: Sam promised.

Barricade rumbled something. Sam smiled to himself some more. He doubted that Trent DeMarco would fall back on his high school behavior. The man he had gotten to know wasn't the high school jock he had last seen eight years ago. People could change; he believed that. He had changed himself.

Leaving the busy loading procedures, he mentally went through his schedule for the day, found there was nothing urgent waiting for him, and decided to see if Bumblebee was tied up somewhere important or had some spare time.

Maybe they should just enjoy the day together.

Fin for this fic

Feedback very welcome


	15. Home Improvement 1

TITLE: Home Improvement, part 1  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved  
BETA: the incredibly fast okamimyrrhibis

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Early morning light filtered through the smeared windows, blurred and still without much strength. The sun had just risen, chasing away the night and warming the freezing cold desert. No one had taken a rag to the windows in ages and the current occupants didn't bother with them either. The overground hangar was simply for entry and storage, as well as to access the main areas. The more secure part of the base was underground.

A lot of work had been put into remodelling what had been only for humans in the past years. The underground area was by now several times the former size and ran deep into the earth. Aside from storage and personal quarters, the recharge units, the main lab, the secure lab and the secure storage had been moved there.

Will Lennox shuffled out of his loft apartment, clutching a mug of steaming hot coffee, squinting into the morning light. He yawned, jaw cracking, and wondered why he had actually gotten up that early. Last night had been long and filled with cramming his brain full of mech anatomy and trying his Cybertronian on the nifty language computer program Ratchet had developed for the humans. It was kind of addictive, pulling him in, making him work hard on improving his skills and still liking it.

With a few swift key strokes he opened the medium-sized hangar door to let in some more light and air, shivering as the cold hit his exposed skin.

Runes flitted over the tanned forearms like upset little moths, crawling over his skin, sinking deeper and disappearing, then reappearing in another place. Lennox followed them with distant interest, aware of what the readable ones said. It was nothing extraordinary. His eyes fell on the permanent marking around his wrist, Ironhide's name, and he smiled a little.

He sipped at the black liquid as he watched the sun thaw last night's frost. Winter in the desert was an icy cold affair at night. They even got smatterings of snow when it was really cold, and the mountains turned into snow capped peaks in the distance.

Normally he went for a morning run, but that had to wait until he was caffeinated enough to coordinate his limbs. He was almost alone at the base. Optimus and Ironhide had flown to the Arctic station where everyone was working toward the construction of the Ghost-2. Ratchet was already there, hard at work, and it seemed that things would soon be ready to start on the secret space ship project. Jazz and Bumblebee had remained behind, keeping an eye on matters, patrolling. Since Sam was writing on his second dissertation, he had holed up in the base as well, telling Bumblebee to do whatever he wanted to, just not disturb him or else.

Lennox smiled to himself. He had chosen to remain behind as well since human Allspark rune billboards would only disturb the scientists at the Arctic station. Not that he had been overjoyed with the prospect of going there anyway. There was nothing to do but be in the way, so he could at least do something useful around the base.

Epps had split his men up in three groups and was running them through a training course two States over. With so many new people, the core unit had its hands full to get everyone up to speed on battle skills. Especially telling friends from foe. As Epps had put it: 'Those shooting at you are the enemy. Shoot them.'

It meant no one fighting over the last cup of coffee, whose duty it was to cook, make more coffee or clean up. Epps had already paved the way with the Pentagon and Banachek to bring in food specialists, people to take care of the personal and culinary needs of the unit. Since even a simple cook was never just a simple cook in the military, the selection process was just as complicated as it had been for the fighting troops. Thankfully Lennox didn't have anything to do with that particular problem.

It was almost eerie how silent it was now, he mused.

Peace and quiet.

Nice.

There was a sound from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, not overly alert.

Lieutenant DeMarco walked into the kitchen, nodded a greeting at him, and wordlessly poured himself a coffee. There was an almost blissed-out expression on his face when he drank it. Either the man had no nerve cells left in his mouth or he had mastered the art of gulping down hot, caffeinated liquids as fast as possible.

"Late night?" Lennox asked casually.

"Kinda."

Will knew how much had been dumped on their logistician. In order for the base to operate successfully, the proper materials, equipment, and people needed to be in the right place at the right time. Trent developed, reviewed, and implemented plans for coordinating many different variables such as requirements for and availability of supplies, equipment, personnel, and transportation. With the almost regular shuttling of Autobots and men to and from the Arctic base, he was busy as never before. Trent worked together with the Nellis Air Base to coordinate flights, which was, as always when two different bases tried to coordinate in detail, a drag – especially since the Autobot base was a secret no one was allowed to talk about.

"Need help?" Will offered. "I wield a mean calculator."

Trent chuckled. "Give me a few hours and I'll take you up on that offer. Bowman mailed me a list of flights they are going to run through us, loading and unloading equipment for us and the Arctic station, and it's impossible to coordinate. Not even O'Hare would be able to manage that many flights in such a short time. And since this base is supposed to be top secret, having transporters land and take off at such regular intervals is bound to be noticed. That's what Nellis is for."

"How about sleep?" Lennox queried.

"Later. After I'm done inventorying the lower levels. It's still a mess."

Will chuckled. "Give me a clip board. I'll help. Nothing else to do anyway and we should detour around Sam until he's done with his second dissertation."

Trent grinned knowingly. "I hear you. He nearly tore me a new one when I asked him if he wanted lunch yesterday."

He emptied his, by now second, cup, refilled it, and walked off with a nod and a, "I'll holler when I need help".

Emptying his own cup, Lennox walked back, stretching. Shower, coffee, shave, third coffee, newspaper, more coffee, and then he would tackle what was next on his agenda.

Sounded like a plan.

Too bad that plans were made to be ignored or changed.

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Sam cursed his professor for bringing up the idea of a second degree, himself for thinking it was actually a good one, the authors of incomprehensible books, the looming deadline, and the fact that his treacherous mind was more happy to play with the real stuff than to pour over theory. Books were boring; books were no challenge. Books showed only diagrams and had formulas and mind-breaking math and physics, coupled with people who were trying to explain simple things in complicated ways.

The real stuff now… there was something that could keep him busy until he couldn't but tear himself away because he was minutes away from hypoglycaemic shock. Whenever he used technopathy for an unduly long time, Sam needed to refill his energy reserves, which meant chocolate or other sugary goodies. There was a huge stash of Mars bars, M&Ms and whatnot at the base. Even Epps' soldiers knew never to get in the way of a Sam Witwicky looking for sweets. Some even brought him the stuff when they recognized the danger signs.

Sam gave the books a baleful glare as he finished another chapter. He knew he was good with machines. It was instinct. He understood them thanks to the technopathy. Nothing too complicated, nothing too alien. Sometimes he needed a bit longer, sometimes he had to tread carefully, but it was fun and easy and so natural for him. Cybertronian tech was even more addictive. He already had his first Ph.D., but Professor Avery had come up with the challenge of a second one right after Sam had gotten his first in Mechanical Engineering. Since he had shown such talent and promise, and the government was funding Sam's research and dissertation, Avery had dangled the very tasty morsel in front of Sam's very active mind. Ph.D. in Biomedical, Industrial and Human Factors Engineering.

Shaking his head, he pushed the books and his notes aside, deciding he needed a break. There was no one to distract him, aside from Trent, who had kept out of his way after bringing him lunch, and Lennox, who he hadn't seen for a while. The others were all away. It helped with studying, but it was hell on his need for company.

Sam walked past Ratchet's lab and glanced inside. The medic was running several projects at the moment, all on hiatus, though. Since he was at the Project station, helping with the primary set-up of the construction of the Ghost-2, things at the base had taken the back-burner. Sam knew that Ratchet was mostly busy with the Sector Seven experiments, took them out of storage one after another to explore them, take them apart, look at their components. Some were strange, some were completely confusing, some were just freaking him out.

Something tickled his senses and he frowned. Entering the lab he let his mind brush over the dismantled devices, all inactive. They had never worked. On the second table was a storage box, open, filled with dead body shells. Sam never felt well around them and he tried not to sink his mind into the fried circuits if he could help it. All were Allsparked, all had been created in the last five years before the Autobots had arrived, and they had all been born angry and terrified and with the need to flee.

Again there was a little tingle, like something twitching, trying to wake up.

That couldn't be. Everything was dead.

Sam climbed onto the table using the pull-down ladder that reminded him of fire escapes. They had been installed wherever a human might need to get up without a mech lifting him.

His mind tracked the signal and it didn't come from the box but from something beside it.

Sam frowned at the device he found just behind the box. It was about the size of a human refrigerator, a dark gray, and had no casing. Cables ran from the device toward a dead body shell, like some kind of life support, and Sam shivered. The body shell was something he had seen before. It was the spider-bike, the thing that had come stuck in mid-transformation when Sector Seven had put it out of its misery.

The device next to it felt like some kind of scanner to Sam's mind, plugged into what doubled as a brain for the human-created robot. Ratchet was apparently attempting to look into the minds of the primitive robotic forms. He had been surprised that the Allspark had never placed a true spark into any of the creations, but Sam had been glad it hadn't. A spark was like a soul in his mind. It was what gave the mechs not only life but also sentiency, emotions, everything. Without a true spark the machine was just a machine. It reacted on instinct, almost primitive, and some never survived their first hours because the energy dissipated and left them dead husks.

"Sam?"

He flinched and whirled around. Lennox was standing in the door, looking at the table, frowning.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Working?"

"No. Just… I thought…" He shrugged.

Will walked into the lab. "Ratchet's doohickey?"

"Something like it. I haven't been in here since last month. I didn't have time for anything but work." Sam knew he sounded like a pouting kid and from Lennox's expression, he looked like one, too.

Will chuckled. "Deadline's when?"

"Two weeks, day after tomorrow."

He had by now reached the ladder again and was about to climb down again when something spiked. It touched his senses with an almost painful sharpness and he froze.

"Sam?"

It didn't come from the bike. It came from… somewhere else. In the box. Something was there. Waking up.

"Sam?!"

Sam shook his head and went back to the storage box, which was about the size of a shipping freight container. He pushed the door open and peered inside.

"Damnit, Sam!" Lenox could be heard from below. "What the hell is going on?"

"I felt something," he called back. "It's…"

Something crackled.

"What the ...?"

The pain came all of a sudden. It ran up and down his body like liquid fire and Sam screamed. His whole body seemed to glow and the pain was unbearable. An invisible force hit him and he was thrown across the table, colliding with the heap that had been a motorbike once. The wind was knocked out of him and he went down, gasping for air, unable to breathe for a second. Half conscious he lay on the ground, coughing and wheezing.

There was a distant squeal, like strained gears, then a loud bang.

Sam blinked, tried to sit up, and needed the support of the metal husk to get his body to stay up.

Another bang had him wince. Sirens started shrilling their alarm.

"Sam!"

The voice was familiar, but distorted, deeper, more resounding, more commanding, too. He barely had time to puzzle about it before he was grabbed in large hands. He was whisked off the table. His mind reached out, latched onto another, but it was weird. Alien. Not electronic, not truly organic.

"Will?!" he blurted.

Blue optics in a black, unfamiliar face looked at him. The mouth of the protoform mech twisted a little.

"Sorry for the rush. We got a problem."

Sam's brain was trying to get up there where the action was and finally shed the last cobwebs.

"What's going on?" he demanded as they raced down the corridor.

"I don't know what Ratchet kept in that box and what he did to it, but it's out, it's angry and it has fire power!"

Another bang drove that point home.

Sam cast his senses out, tried to pick up the only other mechanical life form he could possibly touch in the base, but he found nothing. Just regular machinery.

"It's not a mech," he said.

Will cleared the corridor and pushed the door shut behind them. He set down Sam.

"I don't know what the fuck it was, but it's mechanical all right."

"But it's not like the Autobots."

A snort. "Hardly. It's one of Sector Seven's. I thought those things were all dead."

"They are." Sam rubbed his forehead, feeling a light headache creep up. "I mean, I never felt a single blip. Ratchet scanned them all before storing them away for further analysis. He said they were dead."

"This thing looked very much alive to me."

"What did it look like?"

The hybrid frowned, eyes narrowing a little. "Bigger than a breadbox, smaller than a car."

Sam rolled his eyes and regretted it immediately. The headache flared. Great.

"Sam, all I saw were legs, canons and about six or eight optics. It bowled you over, flung you aside, started to shoot at me, then began to tear apart Ratchet's lab."

"Oh, he'll be happy," Sam muttered.

"I'd be happy now if we could contain the critter."

The younger man massaged his temples. "Do you think you can grab it?"

"Well, I'm bigger," Will said carefully, "but I'm unarmed. I can withstand some fire power. Ironhide's been shooting at me enough that I developed a good shielding mechanism."

Sam met the blue optics, smiling tiredly. "Then we start hunting for it."

"No way are you coming along!" the former Army Ranger snapped.

"Will…"

The protoform hybrid went down on one knee, ice blue optics bright and hard. "No. You stay. That's an order, Witwicky."

"But…"

"You stay," Lennox repeated, voice just as hard. "Get yourself a radio. You can talk me through the rooms."

Sam clenched his teeth, the headache throbbing in time with his heart beat. "I can't remote-scan, Will. It has no spark. Telling it apart from regular machinery would be near-impossible from afar."

"I'm not taking you down there to get you killed!"

"I can take care of myself!"

There was a loud hiss of annoyance. Ice blue optics met determined brown eyes.

A crackle on the radio alerted them to the third occupant of the base.

"Lennox? Witwicky? What the fuck is going on?" DeMarco demanded.

"We got a situation, Lieutenant," Will answered, never taking his optics off Sam. "Hostile. Moving freely."

"Designation?" DeMarco asked, sounding remarkably cool and professional all of a sudden.

"One of Sector Seven's experiments."

"What's your twenty?"

"Outside Ratchet's lab. The hostile is armed and dangerous, Lieutenant. Proceed with caution. Sam and I are trying to contain here."

"Ten-four. Do you need help?"

"No. Secure the base. Complete lock-down. Nothing gets in or out."

DeMarco acknowledged and Will turned to Sam again.

"I'm going," the younger man repeated.

"Bumblebee will skin me alive," Lennox finally snarled.

"He'll want mine too, for suggesting this."

"Sam…"

"Leave it, okay? I'm not a helpless kid. I can defend myself."

There was such a hard expression in those brown eyes that every Marine would be impressed.

Lennox didn't argue, but happiness looked different. "Keep your head down," was all he said.

"Yes, sir!"

The hybrid grimaced. "Okay, soldier, where do we start?"

Sam chuckled, but without humor. "We head for the lab, retrace our steps, and I'll scan."

Will flexed his fingers. He was unarmed and clearly unhappy about it. It was why they went to Ironhide's weapons room first, then doubled back and started their search for the violent creature.

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Topside, Trent had geared up, assault rifle in his hands, heading for the main control station of the base. He knew what to do in case of emergency, be it an inside attack or an outside assault by enemy forces.

After keying in the commands and watching all doors slide shut, he disabled the command program and instead called up internal security to track the intruder, as well as his two comrades. He frowned as he discovered only one human life sign. The other blip was… weird, but there was a third one, moving fast, clearly mechanical in origin and he suspected it was the target.

The human blip, accompanied by the strange one, were following.

And then the screen went dark.

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The Camaro rolled to a stop, scanning the streets, and found nothing amiss. Jazz was currently on the highway, looking into things, keeping a sensor on daily life. Barricade was… somewhere. Bumblebee couldn't pick him up on his scanners, which didn't mean he wasn't there, just hidden.

That the former Decepticon shared a unique connection with Sam as well had irked him a little at first. Then it had been worry, mixed with annoyance, a healthy dose of anger, and some jealousy. Barricade was like a shadow, watching, in his own way kind of protective, and ready to intervene.

For his own reasons. His own agenda. Bumblebee watched him in turn.

He was just about to start back toward the city center when the alarm went off. The Camaro almost froze for a second, then action kicked back in and he accelerated down the road, heading out of Mission City.

Something was wrong at the base. The alarm had gone off, signaling an intruder, a shut-down, and danger.

:Sam!: he sent, trying to uplink.

Distance had never worked before and it didn't now. So he tried the normal channels, but to no avail.

Panic filled his spark.

Sam and Will were alone at the base! What if it were Decepticons? What if they had snuck back and found the base and were now attacking? Injuring their human allies, tearing apart their home…

Something inside Bumblebee keened softly.

It couldn't be Decepticons. They would have known about a crash. They would have picked up signals, right?

The panic spread more and the Camaro raced down the streets, heading back into the desert.

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Trent knew he was up to his neck in trouble when the base security network suddenly came on-line and very, very active. One of the automated cranes moved erratically, then more and more fluidly. Its claws opened and closed, then started to look around for something…

"Holy shit!" he swore when a crate came flying his way.

It shattered behind him, huge splinters raining over him. More airborne objects followed and when he ran, the second crane blocked his way.

"Lennox!" he yelled into his headset. "Something hacked the base network! I repeat, we've been breached!"

He only got static in reply.

Communications had been compromised, too. What the fuck was that thing that had revived down there? And how were Lennox and Sam doing against it? He wanted to go and check on them, but he had orders and he knew it was vitally important that he remain upstairs, secure the exits.

Another projectile nearly clipped his head and he ducked behind a crate, desperately trying to think of a way out. Right now, keeping himself conscious and alive was primary on his mind.

And then the fire system went on-line, dousing everything in foam.

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"What the hell…?!" Will exclaimed and ducked again as the attack came from behind instead of from in front.

Something slammed into the wall beside him. A huge sizzling stain showed where half a second before his head had been.

"It's learning!" Sam shouted. "And it's using our own weapons against us!"

"Can't you shut it down?"

"What do you think I'm doing?! Counting rivets in the wall?!"

Lennox reloaded, aiming at their attacker. For all its small size compared to a Cybertronian mech, it was fast and well-armed. A staccato of blasts came back at them and Lennox cursed more colorfully. Luckily for them the robot was apparently only able to take control of small sections of the base, but unluckily enough it were the sections they were in. If they weren't drowned in sprinkler water, suffocated by foam, or cooked by rising temperatures, the robot was shooting at them. Climate control was on the frizz and currently it was cold and wet. Cold enough to freeze the sprinkler water of before.

"This won't work. I'll draw it away, you work on getting into its pea brain and shut it down!" Will yelled at Sam.

The technopath looked pale but composed. While Lennox had the advantage of a rather enduring metal skin, Sam wasn't so lucky. He was cold, wet, tired and ready to just slide down a wall and never get up again.

Still he nodded. The problem wasn't the size of the brain, it was the mess it was in. While no mind was orderly, this one was just a jumble of almost alien emotions, most of them sheer terror and fear. Sam had tried to calm the creature down, reason with it, tell it they were friends, but that had ended badly. Will hadn't said anything about the severity of his resulting injury, and he wasn't bleeding blood, but there was a sticky fluid on his left side that had Sam sick with worry.

The creature screeched and scuttled for Will, then suddenly jumped. Will yelled and went down, grabbling with the thing. A stinger-like tail buried deep into one thigh. Lennox screamed.

Sam was unwillingly reminded of _Aliens_ again and pushed that image aside, just as he pushed away the sounds of pain.

He had to concentrate. He had to get inside, shut the thing down. These weren't deliberate shields, these were emotions acting as a barrier.

Eyes on the combatants, he tuned out the destruction all around them and plunged into the creature's mind.

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For Jazz, being amongst humans was fun. No doubt about it. He loved their music, their movies, their TV shows, their radio broadcasts, their languages, just about everything. Spending time with them, even if he had to hide his true self, was eye-opening. Letting the music of a group of street dancers wash over him, he felt his circuits pulse with the rhythm, the hard beat, the sheer life that was in every musical note.

He felt Barricade's dark amusement, his barely contained mirth. Where Jazz loved this world and embraced their chosen exile, Barricade watched everything with wariness. He saw the enemy in every stroller with a baby, in every old lady crossing the road, in every beer-bellied businessman. It amused Jazz in turn because despite his misgivings and distrust, Barricade continued to protect those he had chosen in his own way.

:Location?: he sent to his partner.

What he got were coordinates not far from the base. Barricade had taken to scouting the desert, looking for campers, hikers… trespassers, as he called them. The Army and Air Force made sure that the old base was left alone by the casual hiker, but sometimes people stumbled around the desert, looking for the alien conspiracy proof they were sure was hidden out here. Actually, for the past years, they were right on target.

:Find anything?:

:Nothing: was the bored reply.

Bored Barricade was something to beware of and Jazz knew his partner might start shooting at rocks and dead trees if bored out of his processor.

:You could head back to base:

:Doing what?:

:Maybe Sam needs some distraction from his dissertation:

Barricade chuckled darkly. :The way he ripped Ratchet's head off after the last disturbance, I'd rather not attempt approaching with him in that condition:

Jazz laughed. :Scared?:

:Terrified: came the wry reply.

Sam was a force to be reckoned with, even without his technopathy. Jazz respected the young man, what he had achieved, how he had developed in the last years, and he knew it was stressful for Sam at the moment. He was about to reply when the alarm sounded through his systems.

"What in the name of Cybertron…?"

And he shot off back base, calling Sam or Will, getting no reply.

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Trent had taken desperate measures to shut down the two cranes, tearing apart their control modules and taking an ax to it. Sparks spluttered all over the place and through the thick whiteness of the fire-fighting foam he could see the now dead hulks of the cranes. He coughed and wiped foam off his face. Some of it was definitely pink in color, which meant he had been injured.

_Huh. Never noticed. _

Leaning against the console, Trent took inventory and was surprised to note that his leg hurt, too. His knee, to be precise, and now that he thought of it, he remembered getting a whack on the leg by something hard and unyielding. Adrenaline had worked its magic and let him battle on, but now, with the situation defusing, he was suddenly privy to all the little discomforts.

There was a low rumbling sound. He didn't flinch when red and blue lights lit up in the foggy distance, somewhere close to the entrance, which was wide open. He listened to the distinctive sound of transformation and met the deep red optics of Barricade with a tired, though still alert expression.

The former Decepticon looked at him for a long moment, then let his optics sweep over the destruction.

"Sam and Will are downstairs," Trent broke the silence and pushed away from the console, none too steady on his legs. "I lost radio contact."

There was something of a hiss from deep inside the mech, then he walked past DeMarco without a word. Trent tried to follow, but his knee gave a sharp spike of agony and he grabbed for support, clenching his teeth. Great. Trying to hobble only intensified the pain and he cursed under his breath.

Damnit!

But he limped after the mech, determined not to remain behind. He was a soldier and his comrades were still in danger. As long as he could aim and shoot, he would do so.

tbc...


	16. Home Improvement 2

Smoke drifted through the room. Hot metal pinged.

Something twitched, sparked, then died with a long-drawn sigh. A screen imploded belatedly.

Lights flickered.

Somewhere in the depths of the base a fire was finally put out by the automatic system.

There was a scuttle of tiny legs, a whirr.

The blast of a powerful weapon incinerated whatever it had been that had tried to escape through the smoke.

Heavy steps crunched metal and other debris underneath.

"Anything?" a tired voice asked.

Sam leaned heavily against what was left of a mech-sized desk. "No," he replied, equally tired.  
"Can't sense a thing. It's dead."

And so was he. His head was killing him; his shields were nothing but thin papery shadows of before. The bruises were nothing compared to the overall ache of an overtaxed mind. He looked at his hands. They were shaking.

In a corner, the support structure finally gave way and crumbled. Sam flinched. Blue optics loomed over him and Will held out a hand. There were fluids dripping off his arm and his fingers looked burned. While protoforms were resilient, Lennox was only mimicking one. He was still himself underneath.

"Let's get out of here."

Sam coughed. "Sounds like a plan."

Will lifted him and for once, Sam didn't complain. He doubted his legs would carry him.

It was when they rounded a corner that they saw a looming shadow through the smoke, red optics flaring briefly. Will reacted automatically, raised his gun, but sharp claws grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the wall. Sam had no time to yell as he was unceremoniously dumped and Will slammed his hand under the chin of his attacker.

There was a surprised grunt, then the blurry shape launched itself forward once more, trapping the injured hybrid against the wall, hissing softly. Will moved fast, faster than a human, and was about to deliver another blow himself when red optics flared brightly.

"Use your optics, Lennox," Barricade snarled angrily.

"Stop sneaking around the base!" Will shot back. "There's a com line for that!"

The former Decepticon chuckled, then pulled back. He raised one hand and studied the fluids clinging to it. His optics ran over Will's injured form.

Sam needed the wall to stand up and he knew he would sooner sit down than keel over in a graceless heap.

:Stop gawking: he sent, his mind-voice the only stable thing about him.

Barricade glared at him. "What happened?" he demanded.

Lennox pushed past him, blue optics bright with anger, exhaustion and pain. "We had some trouble," was all he said, then offered Sam a lift once more.

Barricade looked around the corridor, rumbled something, then followed them.

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They ran into a foam and dirt covered DeMarco two corners ahead. Trent looked like he was in pain, but from the way he had raised his gun at the sound of someone approaching, he was still clear-headed enough. He lowered the weapon, breathing hard.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sam nodded tiredly. "Yeah."

Trent looked at the unfamiliar protoform. Like most soldiers he didn't know much about Lennox's abilities and the shape-shifting was something not many had asked about, let alone had seen him in that form.

"Major Lennox?" he asked warily.

Blue optics brightened briefly and Will nodded. "You okay to walk?"

"Yes, sir."

"We got the hostile neutralized," Will went on.

"Good to hear." Trent limped gamely after them, but when his leg gave way, he was only saved from falling because someone scooped him up.

Trent shot the Decepticon a dark look. Barricade glared back. Sam and Will exchanged brief looks. Trent didn't know why Barricade kept such close optics on him, not did he know it had been Barricade who had exacted his revenge for the attack on Sam by placing the false accusations against him. Trent simply reacted to the way Barricade behaved around him.

"You don't have to carry me," DeMarco muttered under his breath.

"I can drop you any moment, human, so shut up."

Trent glowered more, but he winced again when he was place back onto his own two feet the moment they were topside.

"Incoming," Will announced as he placed Sam next to the lieutenant. "Friendlies," he added.

Barricade headed through the debris for the main entrance while Lennox shifted back into human form, sinking back against an overturned crate with a groan. He glanced at Trent.

"Nice work, Lieutenant."

Trent shrugged tiredly. "Thanks, sir.

Sam started to list sideways, eyes sliding shut, and DeMarco dug around his torn and soggy uniform. He finally managed to find something that looked suspiciously like a Snickers bar – after a bad day. Sam took it greedily and wolfed it down, still leaning very much against Trent for support.

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Jazz had turned and driven back to the base at high speed the moment he had received the shut-down alarm. He wasn't surprised to meet Bumblebee on the way. What did surprise him was the presence of Barricade.

The black mech stood outside the base, arms crossed over his chest, looking almost… casual?

Jazz transformed, briefly checking on any kinds of injuries, but he found nothing. From the narrowing red optics he knew he had been caught worrying. He smirked at his partner.

"What's going on?" he demanded, the smirk replaced by a very serious expression.

"Where is Sam?" Bumblebee asked almost simultaneously.

"Your human is inside. With Lennox and DeMarco. They are alive," Barricade growled. "Looks like there was an incident in the lab."

Jazz walked past the former Decepticon, throwing him an annoyed look. "Incident?"

"I arrived ten minutes before you," Barricade told him, voice gravelly as he followed. "The humans were breathing, the threat was annihilated."

Jazz was about to reply when his optics fell on the chaos that had once been the overground base. "Great Cybertron!"

It was a mess. Clear and simple. There was even a door hanging in its hinges leading toward the lower levels. It looked like a firefight had resulted in the fire-fighting system to go off, drowning everything in foam, which had either melted, dissipated, or dried on every available surface.

Barricade just shrugged.

"Sam!" Bumblebee exclaimed and walked quickly over to where his human friend sat, eating a chocolate bar.

Jazz scanned the young man, found multiple bruises, one cut that had been treated, but no broken bones or inner bleeding. He looked rather wet, some foam still clinging to his hair, and he was too pale for a healthy human.

"We're okay," Lennox said, sounding exhausted.

He looked worse than Sam, had abrasions on his arms, his face showed bruises and scratches, and his clothes had tears that were crusted in blood. One arm was supporting his left side and his hand looked burned. A thigh was blood-crusted, too. Even through the dirt and blood the runes were clearly visible. The angry way they flared and ran over his skin, Will had to be in a terrible shape.

Next to him sat Lieutenant DeMarco, equally bruised and battered. He was favoring one leg, using an assault rifle as a crutch. There were multiple cuts on his hands and face.

"What happened, Will?" Jazz asked sharply.

"One of Sector Seven's experiments revived. Whatever Ratchet did while scanning them, I think he accidentally reactivated one over time. It had a rather brief but very violent life span. Got into the security system and hacked the fire controls."

Jazz gaped at the human. "What?!"

Sam came over, every step spelling exhaustion. He looked ready to keel over and the pinched expression spoke of a major headache. Barricade was studying the young human with narrowed optics and from the way Sam grimaced, he was almost down to his last shield.

"The body shell is in one of the storage chambers," he said. "It's completely dead. There's nothing left. I scanned it." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his torn and frayed jeans. "It didn't really attack us, just… tried to get out. It tore apart whatever got in its way."

"And it nearly got out," the Solstice muttered, looking at the hangar.

"Yeah."

"Ratchet's lab needs complete remodeling," Lennox commented.

"Along with half of the topside base," DeMarco added with a grimace.

Jazz nodded at Bumblebee to take care of Sam, get him to eat something, then sleep. From the barely audible protests when the Camaro picked up his human friend, it was the right decision.

"I'm calling Dr. Keyron," Jazz told DeMarco Lennox, who appeared about to protest.

"I'm fine. I just need a shower and some band-aids," was the dismissive reply. "I had worse in my active time."

"Which doesn't mean you should ignore your injuries, Will. While my knowledge of human anatomy is theoretical only, I can tell that these injuries are severe and need treatment."

"This is just a toned-down mirror of what the protoform looked like, Jazz. I'll heal."

The first lieutenant had suspected something like it, but he hadn't wanted to ask. Like all he was aware of Will's shape-shifting abilities, had seen him train with Ironhide. It was only logical he would use the more enduring protoform to confront an enemy.

DeMarco was silent, but he seemed to agree with Lennox on the matter of these being no injuries to fuss over. Jazz's opinion ran differently and he was calling the shots now.

"We need to secure the dead shell first, check on the rest of Ratchet's lab, get everything in safe storage," the ex-Army Ranger went on. "After that I promise I'll crash for a few hours."

"Will, you won't be able to walk anywhere in that condition. Neither are you, Lieutenant DeMarco."

Lennox gritted his teeth and rose, but before he could take a step he started to sway and his knees buckled. Jazz caught him, scanning the life-signs.

"End of discussion," the Solstice only said. "You sit here and wait for your medic. Cade and I will take care of matters for now."

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That was how it went in the end. Jazz and Barricade cleared a path through the debris in the lab, collected all Sector Seven devices and experiments, and boxed them in high-security containers. Jazz refused Will's help, ordered him to stand down from changing into the protoform to assist, and to just tell them where to go. DeMarco had wrapped an ice pack around his definitely swollen knee and he had given Jazz a brief version of what had happened topside. It was astounding what the three humans had managed to do.

The now deactivated – actually quite literally shot apart – body shell of the revived experiment was placed into a separate box and kept apart from the rest.

Closing the secure door, Jazz keyed in the code. It was the moment Mark Keyron, their human medic, arrived.

"I won't ask," the man remarked wryly as he looked about the chaotic base. "And I don't have to ask where or who my patient is."

Lennox grimaced, still holding his ribs. "Hello to you too, Doc."

Keyron looked over at Trent, who looked back with a resigned air around him.

"I see," was all the doctor remarked and placed his bag on an overturned crate.

Jazz left them alone. For now there was nothing he could do to help.

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:I'm fine, Bee: Sam sent tiredly, stumbling along the corridor toward his quarters.

:Sure: came the reply, filled with disbelief and worry.

:Really. Just tired:

And bruised. And headachy. Sam knew he had exerted himself and he was paying for it with every passing hour. By tonight he would either have the mother of all migraines or he would be zoned out from painkillers.

A hand scooped him up and he gave a yell of protest.

"You nearly ran into the wall," Bumblebee only said.

"Oh."

Damn.

The mech cradled him close to his chest and Sam rested his aching head against the cool metal. It was nice… comforting. The rest of his body was shutting down and he would probably have the rest of the bruises ache tomorrow when he got up, but for now the adrenaline still kept him mostly pain-free, aside from the headache.

"Sam?"

"Huh?" He blinked. Must have nodded off.

They were inside his quarters, which were nothing but an old storage room remodelled to double as Sam's second home, away from Mission City, when he was at the base.

"Do you need help cleaning yourself?"

He flushed a little. "No. I can do that. No. Thanks. Uhm…"

Bumblebee set him down and there was a smile in his optics. :Want me to stay?:

:They'll need your help cleaning up the mess: Sam managed, wiping ineffectively at a stain on his ripped shirt. It was a goner. Damn.

:I can stay for a while:

:Okay: he only answered faintly.

Crawling into bed he fell asleep almost the moment his head, grimy as it was, hit he pillow.

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Bumblebee sat down next to the bed, watching his friend and charge. He opened the connection between them and felt Sam almost automatically slide closer with an exhausted murmur. Smiling, he held him protectively.

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Jazz found Barricade topside. The worst debris had been cleared away and by tomorrow things would probably look even better. Jazz had radioed Epps, had told him what had happened, and the human commander had immediately sent his guys packing to come home. They would arrive throughout the night.

"They did a commendable job," Barricade rumbled.

"Yeah, they did." Jazz leaned against the wall, watching the dying light outside. "Looks like your training paid off, Cade. And DeMarco proved himself, hmm?"

The expression in Barricade's dark face said 'die'. Jazz grinned a little and bumped shoulders with his partner.

"Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide are coming back by plane. I told them we had things under control, but…"

"But they don't trust neither me, nor the fact that their second.-in-command is very well able to handle a minor disturbance," Barricade finished dryly.

Jazz chuckled. "No. Ratchet's upset, Ironhide's furious that security was so easily overwhelmed, and Prime just needs to be here. I think we should just box whatever Sector Seven worked on, bury it, and lose the key to the site."

"Good plan."

"So, you want to welcome back the troops and tell them what happened, or you want to keep an eye on our two warriors?"

Red optics flared a little at the choices. None suited Barricade, but when he turned and walked back into the base, Jazz knew he was stuck explaining to Epps and the unit what had happened. He smiled and readied himself for that particular task

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"Can't leave the man alone for an hour," Epps commented, though his tone of voice suggested it was said in jest.

The rest of the unit milled around, clearly astounded by the destruction wreaked in their absence.

"It's worse downstairs," Jazz said.

"Worse?"

"Ratchet's lab didn't survive."

The human groaned. "He's gonna throw a fit."

"Probably. Followed by guilt." Jazz had known the medic long enough. That guilt complex could only be topped by Prime's sometimes. "Your quarters survived relatively intact."

"Well, thanks for little things. How are they?"

"Sam's sleeping. At least I hope so. Bumblebee is with him. Will and the lieutenant are with Dr. Keyron. I think it'll take a while. Will took quite a beating and Lieutenant DeMarco was busy dodging crates getting thrown at him by the remote-controlled cranes. I think he twisted a knee, among other things."

Epps nodded. "So we've just been promoted to the cleaning crew?"

Jazz chuckled. "No. We will need your help repairing what can be repaired, salvage what's left, but you're not here to clean."

One of Epps' lieutenant's approached. "Checked the quarters. Looks good," he reported. "The men are ready to help where they can."

"Thanks," Jazz replied. "I guess we do what we can, sort through the rubble. Barricade and I secured the dead shells and they are under tight lock and key."

"Good to know." Epps turned and hollered at his unit to leave their gear and get going. They had work to do.

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Will sat through the examination and treatment with an almost stoic air. Keyron palpated his ribs, announced them fractured in two places, then wrapped them tightly. It drew a wince and a muttered curse. His cut and bruised skin would heal. The laceration on his left arm needed stitches, just like the stab wound in his thigh. The burned hand was cleaned and wrapped.

"Okay," the doctor announced, stepping back as if to inspect his handiwork. "Nothing fatal, nothing permanent. I know you tend to heal fast, but take it easy, Will. Your protoform might not have translated all injuries to your human form, but you will feel this for the rest of the week."

"Already can," Will muttered.

"Which should tell you what to do."

Lennox nodded. Just getting out of bed had been hard work. He ached everywhere.

"The blood loss isn't too bad and you'll need fluids, so drink water, but no coffee or alcohol. The burns need to be kept clean and wrapped, the bandages changed every day. You can come out to Nellis if you need help."

"I'll be fine."

"If you experience any new symptoms, call," Keyron advised. "You were never injured this badly before. We don't know what your altered body makes of it."

"Right now? The same it did the last time I was run over by a Mac truck," the former Army Ranger groaned.

The other man chuckled. "You know where to reach me. Call. Any time, any day."

"Yeah. Thanks, doc."

"No problem."

Lennox limped out of the treatment room and picked his way around the lingering debris to the miraculously intact common area. One of Epps' guys was there. When the hell had his former team come back? Somehow his muddled brain wasn't really forthcoming with an answer.

"Coffee?" the man – Jonas, Will reminded himself – asked.

"Best I heard in the last hours. Thanks."

Jonas grinned and handed him a mug. "You look like you need it, sir."

Translation: you look like hell.

"I could use a whole plantation intravenously, without too much water and very strong beans."

"I don't know about the intravenous part, but I think we've got some of that special brew left that Zack brought with him last week."

Lennox smiled dreamily as he shuffled over to a comfortable chair and sank inside with a groan.

"Need anything else? I found the fridge intact and it has some cold steaks and sandwiches."

"Nah, I'm fine. Thanks, Jonas."

The soldier nodded. "Have you heard anything from DeMarco?"

"Keyron said he'll be fine. Twisted knee, bruises, the like."

"Good to know."

With that he left him alone.

He wouldn't move again for the next millennium, Will swore to himself.

The down side was, he would have to move to go to his own place, which was currently a really, really bad idea. Unless Epps bodily kicked him out, he would stay here, let the drugs in his body work, let the hybrid cells do their magic.

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Trent hadn't protested at all when Keyron had told him to find a bed and lie down, get some sleep, and for Pete's sake take the pain medication. He wasn't at all averse to pain medication at the moment. He felt every little cut in his body.

There were muffled sounds from outside and he thought he heard people coming and going, but the drowsiness soon changed into sleepiness, and he dropped off quite quickly.

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The cargo plane had landed at Nellis in the middle of the night and three Autobots had driven straight off and back to base, without stopping to say hello. They arrived to find the overground hangar bathed in flood lights and almost ship-shape again. People were busily cleaning up the last remnants of the fight and Bumblebee was there to help when a larger hand was needed.

The lower levels were a different matter and when Ratchet saw his lab, he knew this would take a lot of work. Ironhide had immediately accessed the network and downloaded the security feeds, shaking his head more than once. His second task was to seek out Lennox, who was in his loft-apartment, and checking his health status.

Ironhide had gotten the gist of things from Jazz and what he had seen on the security feed had been enough. While the details were blurry due to the interference from the small bot, there was no mistaking the injuries of the protoform hybrid.

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Will winced as a scan bounced over his skin and the runes flared with indignation. Ironhide's bright blue optics spoke of his inner agitation and Lennox sighed.

"I'm fine. I'll heal."

Another scan washed over him and Lennox bit his lower lip. The bruised feeling didn't make this very pleasurable, like sandpaper against his skin, and his body reacted on instinct. His skin changed, reflected the scan like an angry fist into Ironhide's face, and the mech rocked back.

Will breathed a sigh of relief as the scan stopped and for a second it was pure bliss, then he stared at Ironhide, an apology on his lips.

"Sorry," Ironhide got there first. "I didn't realize how sensitive you are."

He wanted to erupt in a fit of anger at being called sensitive, but he was too washed out, too exhausted, too achy. Instead Will just shook his head.

"S okay. Instinct."

Both their actions had been.

The mech knelt down and Lennox had the impression he wanted to reach out, but was holding himself back.

"I still apologize," Ironhide replied, sounding strained.

"None of this is your fault and please believe me when I tell you, I'm okay."

"You're not. Your injuries are not repaired."

"Because humans can't be 'repaired'. They heal."

Ironhide made a sound like a sigh. "What happened?" he switched topics. He had learned quite fast that some things just weren't worth the argument.

Lennox gave him his version of the events and detailed the fight when the mech asked more detailed questions. He even gave Ironhide a run-down of his injuries, though not without That Look in his eyes, which Ironhide had come to associate with 'I'll humor you, but don't you dare blow this out of proportion' and 'I'm human. You knew it when you got into it. So don't give me hell over something I can't change'.

Ironhide was hard-pressed not to scan again. He really wanted to make sure that his friend was okay, but when Lennox decided to defend himself against scans, there was no getting through.

He finally did reach out, though physically, and one finger carefully caressed the uninjured arm. Runes flared in Will's face, ancient, cosmic code that Ironhide couldn't decipher. Brown eyes seemed to shimmer in faint blue light, then Lennox winced a little.

Ironhide drew back, but he just caught himself in time from apologizing again. "Get some rest," he only said.

"Good idea." Lennox smiled ruefully. "This'll take a few days."

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Ironhide remained with him, going through the security feed, showing Lennox passages when his friend requested them, and they took apart the movement of the shell and its possible motives – if there had been any. Sam had claimed it had been without a spark, had shown only instinctual reactions, and no intelligence.

Lennox nodded off after a while, though he had fought against his exhaustion. Ironhide's optics studied the smaller human as he lay on the couch, sleeping. There was a thoughtful expression on his face.

Finally he enabled the hardlight hologram, though he didn't bother with the details. The black, humanoid form walked over to the sleeping human and sat down next to him. A hand touched the bruised skin, as if to explore an unknown type of injury. Brown eyes cracked open, there was a brief smile on Will's lips, then he closed them again.

Ironhide did what he had learned was a good sensation for his human partner: he stayed physically close, the much smaller hand of the hologram keeping close contact with Lennox.

Only when his internal alarm told him the energon drain was too severe now to ignore the consequences did he dissolve the holographic image.

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At six o'clock in the morning, Trent limped around the semi-restored topside base, looking for a quiet place to sit down and elevate his leg. He had slept as much as was possible with a bum leg and too much going on in his head, then had gotten up. Epps had taken him off duty as long as he was recovering from his injuries, and while DeMarco had argued that he could work his job while sitting down, Epps had only allowed him light duty in case of emergencies. For now supply would be run by two sergeants.

It wasn't much of a surprise to find Sam with a bowl of what looked like chocolate crunchies in the common area. The other was looking still rather pale and drawn and the way he was eating the sweets it was as if they held the secret to his healing. From what Trent had picked up over the months, and what had made the reports on the incident, he had a pretty good picture that they did. He wasn't stupid and he listened to people talk. Add to that the reports he had signed and those he had read on the lab incident, he realized that what had Sam had said was true: there were even freakier things than giant alien robots.

He sat down opposite Sam, placed his leg on a cushion on the table, and smiled at Sam.

"Headache?" he asked casually.

"Kinda." He smiled tiredly.

"You should get some more sleep, Witwicky. Must have been quite draining."

Sam's brown eyes suddenly hardened, narrowing suspiciously, and his hand with the crunchies stilled.

"I'm not stupid, Sam," Trent told him, shifting to relieve some pressure on his leg. "I heard people talk and I read the report on how you two took out the hostile."

"Trent…"

"Hey, you said it would get more freaky. You were right." Trent shrugged.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"And I'm not seventeen and about to blab it out to someone," DeMarco continued. "I'm part of this outfit, have signed the same papers you have, and I'm part of those guys sworn to protect you and the mechs."

"Yeah."

"Even if it still takes some getting used to for you," Trent added with a little jab.

"I trust you to keep me alive," Sam said quietly. "It's just a difference between Sam the geek and Sam the technopath."

"There is?" Trent teased.

It got him a grimace, but the hard expression lifted. Sam rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Backlash is hell," he muttered.

"I'll take your word for it."

Sam regarded him silently for a while. Finally, "No questions about what happened?" he wanted to know.

"No. If you wanna share, I'm listening. But I don't need to know."

"Military breeding," Sam muttered.

Trent chuckled. "You learn fast when it comes to not asking too many questions."

"Would you want to know?"

Now DeMarco was silent for a moment. "As someone who's known you since school, yeah, I'd like to know what happened. As the logistician of the base, I don't need to know anything. As a soldier I'm curious as to the possible implications for any of us involved."

Sam popped some chocolate into his mouth, then nodded at the fridge. "Beer?"

"Soda pop," Trent declined. "Pain medication," he added as an explanation.

When they both had their cold sodas, Sam told him. The long and detailed version, the version that told Trent that there was a matter of trust between them now, a trust deeper than just between two comrades in arms.

Trent listened, his respect of his former 'enemy' rising several notches. Barricade had trained the other man? Geee-zus, he thought. The former Decepticon gave him the willies and he still had no idea why Barricade was so fixated on him – in a negative way. It was as if Barricade knew something about Trent that DeMarco didn't even know himself.

"So you can read machines?" he finally asked.

"In a way. I have an immediate understanding of how a machine works. With the Autobots it's not so easy, thought. It's addictive. I… well, we had some accidents."

"Uh-huh." Trent massaged his leg. "You're still full of surprises, Sam."

"So are you," Witwicky said seriously.

"I was trained for this."

"Rampaging robotic experiments from a secret government group?"

"Top of my class," Trent quipped.

Sam chuckled.

DeMarco just smiled. Ten years ago he wouldn't have thought he would ever become friends with Sam Witwicky. Eight years ago he wouldn't have dreamed that his decision to join the Army would get him here. A few months ago he wouldn't have pictured himself going up against crazy experiments.

Times changed.

Expectations changed.

And people changed.

It had never been more true than with Samuel James Witwicky.

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The base was back to almost normal within twenty-four hours of the arrival of Epps' team. At least superficially. Nothing good or hopeful could be said about Ratchet's lab and it would be a while longer until everything was back in working order once more. Ratchet had moved to the spare lab area and was trying to get to the bottom of the incident.

Optimus was another matter. There was no mistaking his guilt.

"We shouldn't have left you alone," Prime said, voice filled with remorse.

Sam rolled his eyes, something Will could only whole-heatedly agree to.

"If you hadn't been here…"

"Then nothing of this would have happened," Sam finished, interrupting the Autobot leader. "And I mean nothing. There would have been no rogue experiment. If I wasn't a technopath, I wouldn't be here, writing my dissertation. Hell, I wouldn't even be at the base. I might never have decided to study engineering! If my name wasn't Witwicky, we never would have made contact!"

Optimus knelt down, about to argue more, but Sam wouldn't let him.

"If Will hadn't been hit by the Allspark shard, he wouldn't be here either. If he hadn't survived Qatar, nothing of this would ever happened! Don't you see? We were able to defend ourselves because of what we are. Leaving us at the base was no mistake, okay? We're alive, we managed to subdue the machine."

"Yes, you did. You did so very well."

Lennox caught a look of Barricade who appeared almost proud of Sam's achievement. The young technopath had clearly fulfilled the shock-trooper's expectations. Will was amazed at his own performance, too, especially how much his body had withstood. The crazed machine had been quite inventive when it came to weaponry.

"And you're not to blame," Sam drove the point home. "I can feel the guilt, Prime. It's not your fault."

"Sam…"

"No," the technopath said levelly. "Blame Sector Seven for experimenting or Megatron for crashing on this planet, but not yourself. You're not to blame for everything!"

There was an electronic sigh and Prime shook his head, but he was smiling.

"I feel responsible for you," he finally said.

"As a commander, I accept that. As a personal bodyguard, no. You're not our watchdogs. You can't coddle us."

It wasn't like Bumblebee didn't give Sam a headache all on his own with his guilt. He had left the base to patrol – because Sam had kicked him out. Sam had made the decision that he wanted to be alone. Who could have known that something like this might happen?

"This couldn't have been prevented even with any of you guys being here," Lennox entered the argument. "The lab was unattended. Everything was powered down. The shell activated over time, not just today."

Ratchet made an unhappy noise. "I never heard of anything like that happening."

"You couldn't have known," Sam insisted. "I'm more than wiling to help you find out what triggered it, but whatever it was, it's beyond your immediate control."

Prime rose and nodded. "I believe it was."

"Good, because I'm tired of listening to you beating yourself up over it." Sam tapped his temple, indicating he was hearing Prime's mind-voice without even listening for it. "And I need to work on my dissertation. I don't think Avery will give me more time because I tell him some kind of secret government experiment from years ago tried to kill me."

Lennox smirked. "You could try, but the psych ward is one place I wouldn't want to end up in."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah." He looked around. "Somehow the U sounds like a safer place at the moment."

"I'll drive," came the immediate offer from Bumblebee.

They were on their way two hours later.

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Will had chosen his usual spot to sit out in the approaching dark. His body had healed and the stab wound, as well as the lacerations, had left only faint marks. Those would disappear, too. The runes were almost invisible tonight. It was cold and he had bundled up, though neither cold nor heat really affected him that badly any more. Changes were still happening and he wondered when it would stop, when he would finally reach what the Allspark was making of him. For now it didn't make him immune to feeling the aches and pains of injuries received while in protoform. It never had.

Ironhide sat next to the one-story building, only the blue optics visible in the falling night.

"Ratchet's still beating himself up over this," Lennox remarked softly.

A grunt answered him.

"It wasn't his fault. He couldn't know. Too many factors played together."

The optics focused on him. "He knows that. Still he endangered you two."

"We're not helpless, Ironhide," Lennox repeated what he had told several Autobots over the last few hours already.

Humans had driven off Scorponok; humans had brought down mechs the size of Devastator and Blackout. Humans were resilient enough not to break when a giant robot swatted at them.

"I know that."

"Then stop implying it, okay?"

He felt tired of being treated like some liability. It made him angry. It made him want to throw it all at their feet, tell them to shove off, to leave him the hell alone. Will knew he was irrational, but he had never been a liability or a weakness in his life, never to his team, never in a team, never in a battle.

A blunt finger tip stroked over his back. He tried not to move into the touch, but it was hard to suppress that need.

"Your eyes," Ironhide murmured when Lennox shot him a look.

Glowing. Right. They were glowing. Telling his friend about Lennox's boiling temper.

He clenched his hands into fists, watched runes flicker over the skin. They were almost invisible in the fading light.

"You are a respected warrior, William Lennox," Ironhide told him, never stopping his touch. "I would trust you with my life and already have. What Ratchet feels is his own failing because he underestimated a situation. He is a very curious mech when it comes to research. As for Prime, he feels this way about everyone under his command. He also has this penchant for shouldering guilt."

Will sighed. He enjoyed the touch, despite the fact that as a human he shouldn't be used to it. Sarah's hands had been small and soft; Ironhide's hand was large enough to surround him. One finger was all he could use for caresses and Will wasn't even sure when his friend had adopted the habit to do so. He enjoyed it, though.

"And myself, I know you are good. I trained you. I know you can handle yourself. I know Sam can handle himself. Still, I worried."

Lennox nodded. "I know, I know, and I'm sorry. It's just… sometimes I think you forget that we humans survived a lot to come this far. We are more resilient than you think."

"No, we don't forget. We know your history. Both you and Sam are more than human, too."

He shivered, but the finger on his back was warm and comforting.

"How damaged was the protoform shell?" Ironhide wanted to know.

"Dented, scratched… something tore in my side. It's why my ribs ached. The stinger of that thing penetrated one thigh, but there wasn't a lot of damage. I really need to work on modifying my shield shell."

"You lost control?"

"Yeah. Under pressure. Damn embarrassing."

The caress stopped and Lennox missed it immediately. He met the blue optics. Ironhide's expression was misgiving.

"Your change happened just over a planetary year ago, Will Lennox. You can't expect to be perfect right from the start."

"How long did it take you to become the warrior you are?"

Ironhide chuckled. "A very long time, my friend, and I'm still learning. We never stop learning and you have a long road ahead of you."

"And I can see the happy gleam in your optics. You enjoy beating me up in training," Will remarked dryly.

Ironhide leaned closer. "You make it enjoyable."

Lennox grimaced. Ironhide touched him gently, running a calming finger over his back. The runes seemed to quiet down and Will glared at them. Treacherous things! But he felt calmer and it translated into the glyphs hovering docile just under his skin.

"You should recharge inside, Will," Ironhide murmured.

It was tempting. So very tempting.

"I'm fine out here. I need the space, 'hide. For now at least." He raised his eye brows. "Or is that a blatant Cybertronian come-on to get me to bed?"

The mech snorted. "First of all, no bed…"

"Yes, yes, all right, stop it!" Will laughed. "I understand. And believe me, I'd love to take you up on that particular offer – if you made it, that is. But at the moment I'm rather careful about the protoform shape."

"Understandable. But you should let Ratchet check you out in protoform shape."

"Later. Not now. Or tonight."

Ironhide nodded. Silence descended between them. It was a comfortable silence, one Will enjoyed, and from the soft glow in the blue optics, so did Ironhide.

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In the end Will sat inside the comfortable cab of the Topkick, leaning against the side panel, watching the stars, feeling Ironhide's soft hum, almost a purr. It was a noise he had come to associate with his friend relaxing, when systems powered down, when processors used less energon, and when Ironhide reached something a human might call inner peace.

He rested one hand against Ironhide's frame, felt them connect, but not in any way ever initiated by sharing. It was like sliding closer, without the need and hunger of a sharing, and he dropped his head back, smiling a little.

The hum increased, filled with warmth and pleasure.

Will let himself slide even closer, wrapped in Ironhide's very presence, and shared something else, something new, something humans would call a hug or a cuddle, something mechanoids had no term for.

The runes brightened now and then, pulsing, relaying Lennox's state of mind, his emotions.

Sometimes new things about himself, about them, weren't so bad, he mused. Not bad at all.


	17. An Interlude: Steps

TITLE: Steps  
Imperfection Deviation  
SERIES: Imperfection  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: R-ish for suggestive content  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

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A little interlude. Will becomes playful...  
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_Typical_, former Army Ranger Will Lennox thought as he looked the window. _First time in over a year I get out of Nevada and the weather's against me._

Heavy drops beat against the window panes, a steady drum of sound that was rather comforting, too. Water streamed down the glass. The mountains had disappeared in the low clouds and Will could only guess where they had been. Just yesterday he had still been able to see them in all their glory.

Crossing the wide living room he walked into the kitchen and then into the adjoining garage, which was large enough to house three vehicles and actually had a second floor, just like the house, which was open. Whoever had built this getaway, he had been a little bit eccentric.

It had been Ron Witwicky's idea for Will to come here. The house belonged to a friend of his, an old school buddy, who had bought it from said eccentric years ago. He hardly ever used it nowadays, so he had offered it to Ron for use. Ron in turn had told Will about it, hinting that it was remote enough and that there was even room for an Autobot.

Ironhide was in his vehicle mode, parked in the garage, waiting silently.

"It's wet," the Autobot remarked wryly.

"It's called rain."

"According to your weather forecast, it'll be like that all week."

Will shrugged and leaned against the dark metal. "It could be worse. It could be hail."

"Do you really believe that hail could so much as dent my armor?" Ironhide rumbled.

"No idea. Could it?"

There was an outraged snarl. "No!"

"Oh well. Then I know we can still go out when it hails," Will teased.

"What's the point in driving through rain and mud?"

"Fun?"

Ironhide was silent for a moment. "Fun," he then repeated evenly. "You call that fun?"

"Actually…"

Another rumble. Will chuckled. He tilted his head back and gazed at the wooden structure above them. The rain was a background noise, a whooshing sound, muffled through the walls and the roof.

"Even if it rains all week," he finally said, "it's better than being stuck in the base."

"We're still stuck," the mech pointed out.

"But not in the middle of the Nevada desert."

"Just in the middle of the Montana mountains."

"Which is a different kind of stuck."

Ironhide snorted. "You humans have funny ways of boredom."

"You're bored?"

"I'm not human."

Will kicked one large tire with his heel. "When did you develop such a strange sense of humor, 'hide?"

"Must be your bad influence."

"I'd say it's Jazz."

"Or that."

Will turned to look at the lazily moving runes on his skin. He rested his palm against the deeply black fender and they flared slightly. Ironhide seemed to shift on his shocks.

"We have time now," Will said softly, almost under his breath. "And there's no one around."

It was always a matter of being alone, safe, undisturbed, and lately, well mostly, it never was one or the other. At the base they were very careful not to be caught, even by accident, in any kind of compromising situation. Not that Will would ever be seen with his pants down. That was a human concept. But for Ironhide to let go the environment had be to secured, had to be remote and still safe. Millennia of fighting and war had honed his instincts and he reacted to even the smallest sound. He couldn't let himself fall, be just Ironhide and not the warrior.

Out here, there was this chance. Out here there was truly no one else.

The tremor passing through the massive Topkick and the accompanying almost sub-sonic rumble had Will's hair stand on end. The runes flared and he saw them rise to the surface, displaying glyphs and Cybertronian writing prominently.

"Your species is insatiable," Ironhide said.

Will laughed a little, both hands on the fender now, feeling the vibrations, almost feeling the runes on his skin.

"Not that you're complaining much," he answered.

"My involvement in this bond between us is equal to yours," came the even reply.

Oh, that sounded so stilted. And like Ironhide was hard pressed not to transform and just initiate the sharing. Lennox smirked. They had tried 'foreplay' before, but it had never been under such secure circumstances, in a place where no one was likely to interrupt, where no alarms could go off.

The rain had picked up strength and was beating against the roof, like very loud, natural static.

"Your involvement is very much appreciated," Will only said, caressing the fender.

Ironhide claimed he felt next to nothing, that it wasn't stimulating, and maybe it wasn't, but it set off something inside the mech that had a similar effect.

_Might be the runes,_ Will mused. _Maybe they help along. Cool. Freaky, but cool._

He concentrated on one hand and let his skin change in color and texture, an ability he had been mastering for the past year now. The runes became more pronounced and his hands and lower arms took on the general appearance of the Allspark's surface, just without the deep grooves. It was as if someone had taken an airbrush to Will's skin and body-painted him.

Ironhide made a strange noise that sounded like metal gears grinding, followed by a rattle.

Something echoed through Will, like an answering groan, and he clenched his fingers, feeling smooth, alien metal under his touch. It was softer, almost comparable to skin, as he touched it now. An armor that deflected energy weapon blasts… and it didn't feel like it to Will.

Gazing at the black skin he saw the reflection of bright blue, and he knew his eyes had taken on the color of an Autobot's optics. Will felt the world expand under his touch, felt Ironhide's raw presence as the spark inside the heavily armored mech pulsed brightly, and his own body echoed each pulse with vigor.

There was a connection between them. Weaker, a lot weaker, than a spark bond, but more than just a friendship. It was almost palpable. It was there and it reacted with the other one. He would never be able to touch Ironhide like he would a human woman, or a human man, but that didn't matter. All of him touched the Autobot in a way that was beyond anything a human could experience. It was different from the technopathic bond Sam had with Bumblebee and not at all like the spark bond between Jazz and Barricade.

It was them. It was special. It caressed him and held him and tore him apart and set him on fire and was nothing but brilliance and warmth and light. Will knew he was making noises, he knew the runes were probably flaring as bright as neon signs, but it didn't matter.

This was them.

Only them.

He thought he said Ironhide's name. He imagined he heard his own. He didn't see anything, but he felt it all and it was massive, overpowering but still so much under their control. Nothing about it was rushed. Nothing was desperate. It was deliberate and slow, in a way, and still so strong.

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Will came back to reality cradled against Ironhide's chest, feeling every curve and edge and tiny crack in the armor plating. He wasn't naked, which was good. He would have been puzzled if he had been, to tell the truth. It wasn't like he had to take his clothes off to share with Ironhide. His cheek was pressed against the smooth metal, eyes heavy, body so relaxed and sated, it was almost a sin. Runes moved slowly, almost invisibly.

"Will?" he heard the deep voice.

"Hmpf?"

Laughter rumbled through the voice box.

Will only grumbled something uncomplimentary.

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The next time Lennox looked outside, the rain had made way for snow. It wasn't thick white flakes, more like a grisly thin shower of not-quite-rain-not-yet-snow. The wind blew it over the ground, bent trees, tore through bushes, and the clouds continued to hang low.

The house was warm and cozy, and Will was watching the display of pure nature with a mug of steaming hot coffee in his hands.

He didn't mind the weather. He didn't mind being alone again, aside from Ironhide, and with no city near-by. It was different than staying on the base, and that was the important part. And if boredom really hit him bad, he could always change into his protoform shape and go out and enjoy the wilderness and changing weather with Ironhide.

He would have to thank Sam's dad for the tip.

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The night the storm howled around the house, rattling at the roof, but Will wasn't worried. He sat inside Ironhide's cab, sharing stories, one hand resting against the dash. The runes coalesced there, almost palpable under his skin, and he felt warm and safe. Ironhide's whole body seemed to hum around him, enjoying whatever it was the Allspark part was doing through the touch. He had no words for it, was barely able to express what he felt, but Will felt it, too.

Soul-deep, intense, intimate beyond belief, and just them. He let it happen, wash over them in gentle waves as they talked. It didn't end in sharing, both hovering at the fringes without the pressing need to reach completion.

It was nice.

Wonderful.

It was the first time for them again and again, able to experiment, to find the limits of their compromises, or go beyond.

Little steps.


	18. Whispers

TITLE: Whispers  
Sequel to Home Improvement  
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

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Sam had finished his dissertation and it had been such a feeling of sudden freedom, it had taken his breath away – especially after the latest events. Without the books and edits and nights slaving over the paper, he felt a sudden hole in his life.

So he had turned to helping Ratchet.

The medic had started to go over each and every body shell in his extensive storage, deep-scanning them, looking for clues as to why something dead had revived. Jazz had joked that he had been dead, too, and had come back, but it hadn't sat well. From the way Barricade had kept glowering at him for the next days, Sam was sure it had gone over really, really wrong.

Not that he hadn't felt the spike of anger inside the former Decepticon. He had almost been able to 'hear' that pulse and 'feel' Barricade's snarl. Jazz would have to tread carefully and soothe ruffled feathers. Barricade took reminders of Jazz's death quite personally and very hard. Not that Jazz was all that careless about the experience either, but on the surface he handled it with a lot less seriousness and a lot more ease.

Still, it was only on the surface. Underneath Sam had seen and felt the turbulences. In both mechs.

The mystery remained for the shells, though. There was no Allspark to trigger a shell once more, and Will's changed body wasn't giving off energy bursts like the Allspark. His cells had absorbed what had remained of the mystical cube and he couldn't give life. As he liked to repeat: he wasn't the Allspark.

So the question remained: what had happened and how?

Two months after the incident, Sam sat in the lab, eyes closed, mind poking around a dead shell. It was one of many in the Sector Seven collection and he had picked it because of several reasons. One was he was tired of looking at twisted wrecks from around the time the Allspark had first been used as an experimental Frankenstein machine. All those wrecks and shells looked… scary. Inside and out. The other was that maybe, because of the recent death of this particular one, they might have a better chance determining what had happened.

There was a rather huge stack of M&Ms, chocolate bars and soft drinks to help him over the energy deficiency he experienced throughout these sessions. Concentrated work on a shell took a lot out of him and he usually felt like keeling over if he overdid it. Sam didn't know if Trent was also responsible for the sweets on base, him being their logistician, but DeMarco kept dropping in on coffee breaks or after shifts to dump a box of anything sweet into his lap.

"Don't overdo it," was his usual remark.

Coffee was another tool to get Sam away from work, for at least fifteen minutes, and small talk about base operations, family, friends, the like. Sam was glad for the distractions, happy about talking to another human being, and he got to know more about Trent than he had ever known before.

Their friendship had grown and Sam was amazed what changes DeMarco had undergone from high school bully to… well… a really good friend. Trent knew about his abilities, he had been confronted with Will in his protoform, and he had battled the revived shell as it had tried everything to get out and flee, attacking them in turn.

Their attacker was dead. There was not even a blip left, but something was drawing the technopath's attention as Sam swam through another dead shell's mind. It was simple and not at all like the complicated pathways of a Cybertronian mind. But even simplicity was dangerous and he tended to get lost if he stayed too long. It was one reason why Bumblebee was always there. The other was his friend's blatant worry and fear that Sam might get hurt.

:Sam?: The worried mind-voice touched him from afar.

:There's something…: he murmured.

Bumblebee couldn't piggy-back on Sam's explorations. It was what worried him even more than anything else.

:Like a faint echo:

:Sam, please be careful:

:I am.:

And he went deeper, past locked down paths, past crumbled and charred remains of circuitry, past programs that had been blown apart. Sector Seven had created life with the Allspark and torn it apart with concentrated bursts of electricity. They had charred the body shells and fried the minds.

There.

Like a weak pulse.

Sam pushed past so many ruins and so much destruction, pushed deeper into the tiny mind, felt regret and remorse and nausea at what he touched and felt.

And then he saw it. Tiny, almost invisible, hiding underneath the remains of a mind that had been short-lived and filled with fear, lay a tiny spark. Not like a Cybertronian's, but a hybrid of alien and human technology.

Sam gaped, stunned. He reached out and brushed over the tiny fragment, felt it shiver, afraid… terrified, actually. It wasn't conscious, but it remembered its death, the attack on its existence. It clung to what it was, holding on with a fierce determination, and it was…

:Stasis: Sam whispered. :Good god! It's in stasis!:

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Optimus Prime had received many bad and worse news in his long life. He had heard many impossible things, had witnessed miracles and wonders, greatness and strength. Hearing about the survival of the tiny mech the humans had given life to had fallen in that category. Like Jazz's return after his death it was a miracle, but he had mixed emotions about it.

The Nokia had had a brief life. A violent birth, an even more violent death. How much of the mind had survived that ordeal? How damaged was the tiny processor?

It had no spark, was no Cybertronian life form, but it was a life form. It was a hybrid, like all of its siblings. Like the one that had nearly killed Will, Sam and Trent.  
Ratchet was agitated. At least as agitated as he would show, which was not a lot, which in turn meant he was very agitated.

"The Nokia is not like Jazz," the medic repeated. "It never had a spark, never had Cybertronian tech keeping it together. It was an artificial intelligence, trapped in a human-built device that was never intended to house such a mind. It was killed by a concentrated energy blast that wouldn't have scratched our sparks at all. For it to survive this, it was a very strong life form."

"One that might not survive coming back," Optimus said thoughtfully.

"Maybe. But we can't stand by and leave it to perish in stasis!" The medic's optics flared in indignation. He would attempt to save any kind of life, even that of a tiny mechanoid created by an alien race by misusing the Allspark.

"I never said so. But it might kill it."

"Yes. But it will most definitely die if we leave it like that, Prime. All the others did already."

He nodded slowly. "What are the chances it will end up severely scrambled?"

"Fifty percent."

Which weren't really good odds. Not at all.

"But Sam said he wants to coax it back step by step, handle it slowly and not just reactivate the central processors. I agree that this might be the key to have it survive the ordeal."

And be sane? Optimus thought to himself. All the others had overreacted and perished – or been killed.

"Are you sure you and Sam want to try this?"

Ratchet nodded firmly.

"All right. Try."

Because all life had a right to live. Optimus stood by that.

Ratchet left and the office was plunged in silence. The Autobot leader gazed at his desk, noted the email sign blinking in the corner of his screen, and suppressed a sigh. Sometimes bureaucracy was as bad as any battle he had ever fought.

He turned to his computer and accessed his inbox.

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The news about the Nokia's survival had stirred memories in Jazz. Less than happy memories he still remembered almost completely. They hadn't fallen prey to the darkness in his torn mind, the part that had been erased in his revival. While Jazz had dealt with recurring nightmares already and Barricade had set his head on straight several times, the reminder was… chilling. Jazz couldn't say why, but he felt unwell in the base. He needed to stay away from the labs and the tiny creature. He needed to think about what this meant.

No one could claim that Jazz was the most introspective of mechs, at least those who only new him superficially. Those who had come to know the private part of him, the part he protected fiercely, knew that things did touch him. He had mourned his friends and comrades in his own way. He had dealt with grief and joy the way he saw fit. And when he needed to talk, he did it with a chosen few.

Throughout the war he had found a common mind in Optimus Prime. His spark-bonded hadn't been an option for various reasons, the most prominent being that Barricade wasn't around much. Their meetings were too brief to burden his partner with small grievings. Now it was different. Now they were together on a daily basis and not just their communication had changed; the whole spark bond felt different. Jazz hadn't given it too much thought yet, but he knew he would want to know more about the changes.

Right now Jazz's own spark ached in sympathy at what the Nokia had gone through. His own death had been just as violent, but not the same. It wasn't a mirror of the Nokia, but their miraculous survival was, in a way. Just hearing about the experiments, the violent death and the stubbornness the little mech showed in clinging to life had Jazz shiver.

So he had left, driving around aimlessly until he had reached the mountains. The Rocky Mountains, to be precise, close to the Canadian Border.

_Figure that_, he thought darkly. _Didn't even notice where I was going._

_Well, damn._

Jazz chose a remote location to finally transform and sat down on a boulder, watching a near-by river. It was a cold day and quite early. He had driven through the night, which he hadn't really been aware of either. Of course Optimus knew that his First Lieutenant had left the base to have some time alone, but he hadn't asked Jazz to call in every step of the way.

_Why am I still thinking about this?_ he thought angrily. _Why can't I just forget about it all and go on? I'm an Autobot warrior! It's not the first time I was confronted with death!_

Well, it had been the first time he had died himself. Normally mechs didn't come back from the dead, but his own spark had been just as stubborn as the Nokia's. There had been something left, something so strong the Allspark shard had been able to revive it. Part of him had been lost, like memories. He knew there were sometimes deep holes inside, and it weighed on him. Jazz wasn't the mech to let that bother him most of the time.

But sometimes, when something came too close to home, it jarred loose those emotions.

_Slagit__!_

The sun rose, warmed the boulders, and Jazz watched the animal life around him. Earth was like a rehab center for him. He could relax in nature, or tune into a music program and forget the world, or watch TV all day and collect new memories. It was all relaxing for him. He didn't need total stillness. He just needed… life. Still, in quiet moments, he remembered the fragments.

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He watched his spark-bonded from the edge of the canyon. Barricade had followed Jazz as the silver Solstice had headed aimlessly along the highways, until he had taken an exit and ended up here. He knew what was going through his partner's mind. He had faced it before. Right now Barricade stayed where he was; silent, just watching, and waiting.

It was close to darkness before Jazz moved, walking slowly along the river bank until he had reached the place where the former Decepticon sat silently.

"Hey," was the soft greeting.

Red optics studied the rather subdued mech. Jazz knew what his partner was thinking – without being telepathic. Barricade had made his point clear several times, but Jazz couldn't help those bouts of dark feelings. They all had them, because of different causes and events. His own had been recent. His death had managed what the millennia of war hadn't – to dampen his spirit.

"Idiot," Barricade now said softly.

Jazz smiled a little, shrugging. "Yeah. At least for the next millennium or so."

Barricade snorted. "Nothing can cure Autobot idiocy," he remarked. "Not even time."

"Probably."

There was a sliver of spark energy touching his own and he drew Barricade closer. While physical closeness wasn't necessary, it helped. The receptors in his skin were fine-tuned and sensitive, more than any other Autobot's he knew. It was what gave him an appreciation for what humans experienced in a hug or a caress. While Barricade and Jazz had never exchanged more than subtle gestures, they had started to change that. At least Jazz had. They were growing closer than they had been in all the time they had been bonded, thanks to spending so much uninterrupted and very open time together.

It helped.

A lot.

Barricade took the invitation and ran careful claws over the microreceptor skin.

"Idiot," came the barely audible whisper.

Jazz wrapped his arms around Barricade's middle, held him tightly, and just enjoyed the ministrations as their sparks slid closer together, pulsing in harmony.

He would work through this one day. Somehow. With reminders, though, it was harder. At least he had an unwavering, unquestioning support. Barricade was there, no matter what. Whatever others saw in him, Jazz knew no one could ever know the truth. Only a spark-bonded could understand what the Autobot experienced, how the trust he placed in Barricade was so absolute, so complete, and so true.

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They left the next morning, both quiet, not needing any words. The spark bond was still open, their sparks very close, and neither made an effort to change that.

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Will looked at the small creature on the table, tiny for a mech like Ratchet, small for a human. It was charred, blackened, circuitry destroyed. It had been killed in its transformed state. It looked like a char-broiled cockroach, but inside this little husk lay a mind in stasis, resilient and brave and so much attached to life that not even a burst of electricity strong enough to fell larger versions of it had managed to erase everything.

"You think it has a chance to survive?" he asked.

Ratchet looked thoughtful. "I don't know. We saw what happened when the last one came back to life. They are so damaged… they are even more violent than their first incarnations."

"The first time they woke up caged. The second time… it had just escaped death, Ratchet. It woke in an unfamiliar place, remembered a violent death…" Will met the blue optics. "We all know how Jazz felt. And he wasn't fried alive."

The medic nodded. "I know. It's one of the first we have found, maybe the only one among the debris that was left. Sector Seven took many of the first ones apart and probably killed whatever had survived of them. Those last ones were brought to life by a brief burst and they ran out of energy before they could fully develop. This one…"

"Try?" Lennox requested softly.

"What if it is too damaged to survive? To be sane?"

Would they kill it? Lock it away? Stasis maybe?

A sad smile touched the hybrid's lips. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, Ratchet. We can't leave it like that. It might claw its own way back to consciousness and look what happened when it occurred the first time."

Another nod. "I'll try. Sam offered to help, communicate with it should it be sentient enough to understand."

It was a start. The rest was only hope.

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The consciousness dreamed.

Nightmares.

Memories that were of a time when its life had been profoundly changed.

It also dreamed of happier times, times when it had been of use, when a human had been happy to have it, when it had been a device of communication, of connecting people. It remembered the joy and the freedom; but then the darkness had come. A lot of what had happened was like a totally different nightmare that culminated in deactivation.

It had been given a consciousness. Awareness. It was no longer a device with computer chips, but it was… someone. A personality. Like its last human. It felt and thought and could express itself.

Then there had been the very violent deactivation, filled with heat and pain and circuits burning.

More nightmares followed. Nightmares of tight spaces, of people staring at it, of confusion and fear and terror and and and…

Nightmares of being alone crashed down on the consciousness without a name, feeding the terror which in turn fed the nightmares. It was a vicious circle. The nightmares were a darkness that held it in a cold stranglehold through which no warmth could permeate.

It curled up inside itself, building walls, shivering in fear of being exterminated completely. It didn't want to rise back to the surface.

But then the presence came. Soft and warm and so alien, but still caring.

Sound touched its core for the first time since it had been conscious.

It recoiled, trembling. There was music, a voice, the sound of someone working. It shivered. Someone was around it. The music was in the background, it realized after a while, actually rather nice, and the voice could only be heard now and then. Listening for a long time it got used to the voice and the music. Sometimes it thought the voice was talking to it, but why should it?

Was it safe? Was it a trap?

The fear still held it tightly. And so it remained deep inside the last corner of its mind, too afraid, too scared, and too damaged.

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Sam had started to spend a lot of time with the Nokiabot. At least he called it that. It had never had a name and no one had bothered to give it one either. For Sector Seven it hadn't even been a file number due to the fact that it had died just before shit had hit the fan big time.  
Lost and alone, he thought. No one had cared about it any more after its deactivation. It had been boxed and shipped to the base, forgotten in a corner, only taken out for brief examinations. Sam wondered how many of the failed and killed experiments had been in such a deep stasis, their bodies charred, and slowly faded away into nothingness over the weeks or months after their presumed death.

He felt sick at the thought. Sick and nauseous and so very angry…

:Not your fault: Bumblebee tried to soothe him.

:They were like children: Sam whispered back.

:Children of the Allspark:

:And they could have been like you:

Bumblebee embraced him gently. :Don't mourn the past as long as there is a future:

Sam chuckled weakly. :Yeah:

Repairs on the cell phone had progressed and he had restored all important circuitry. It was safe for the little bot to come back into its shell, but it hadn't reacted to any contact. Sam had then started to rearrange the lab a little, as much as his small size allowed, and had only asked Ratchet for help when there was no other way.

The Autobot medic was monitoring Sam's work and he had been surprised by the suggestion to give the Nokia constant outside input to get it used to the world outside its self-induced stasis. Sam was convinced the little guy could hear them on a subconscious level.

Sensors kept an eye on every little blip the Nokia made and Sam checked the read-outs constantly. It liked music, he had found out. All kinds of music, except the heavy stuff and some classical pieces.

"We'll get you back," he told the unresponsive cell. "And you'll be safe."

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Lennox walked into the quiet lab, eyes falling on the motionless shell on Ratchet's work bench. It was tiny; looked lost and alone. Sam had tried to coax the terrified mind back to consciousness, but the stasis lock was strong and the mind kept the key in the lock from its side.

_I'd be terrified, too_, he thought. _I wouldn't trust a soul, whatever they promised. I'd stay in my safe little world._

It was what the Nokia did.

He sat down cross-legged next to the examination pad. Sensors kept an eye on the Nokia's progress, or lack thereof.

These were the times Will wished he had the power of the Allspark, could reanimate the dead shell.

"You didn't deserve this. None of them did."

Lennox looked at the runes drifting over his skin. He sighed and reached for the tiny robot. It looked like a dead insect, on its back, legs in the air.

"No progress," a voice rumbled, not even forming it as a question.

Will shook his head. Ironhide stepped closer. He let a finger trail over the human's back.

"This is one time I wish I were the Allspark," Lennox only said.

"But you aren't and I'm actually glad."

It got Ironhide a wry laugh. "If you ever start worshipping me, I'll kick your exhaust through your air intakes."

Ironhide laughed. "Just try, Lennox, just try."

"Hey, I can take you."

"In your dreams."

The runes flared on his arms, like separate entities that had just taken offense, and Ironhide gave a rumble of amusement.

Lennox got up, casting a last look at the stasis-locked Nokia, then let Ironhide help him down. Blue optics regarded him quizzically. Will smiled reassuringly, then turned and left the lab. Ironhide followed wordlessly.

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Time passed by.

It knew that whatever was outside was still there, that it waited for it to react, but it couldn't. Could it? It sometimes felt the stranger outside access its systems and it was helpless while watching him work. Parts of its body were carefully split and then removed, but no one ever touched its consciousness.

Whoever was out there knew what he could do and stopped whenever it might endanger the core.

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Sam still worked on the shell, He had removed damaged circuitry and replaced it, arguing that if the Nokia felt that its body was being restored it might be encouraged to come out of stasis. Will thought it was a sound argument and he frequently checked in on the lab, watching the progress.

It was throughout one such visit, when Sam was almost done with the finer details of the insides of the tiny robot, that the younger man suddenly stiffened. Sam stared at the cell phone, then his eyes widened and his mouth opened to say something. He was interrupted by small red optics flaring to life.

Will gave an exclamation of surprise as the spidery little thing moved and Sam almost dropped it in shock. Red optics met brown eyes, then the Nokia squealed and tried to scramble off Sam's hand, the legs uncoordinated and threatening to collapse under the body. When Sam curled his hands around it, the small creature gave a terrified shriek and attacked the hands keeping it prisoner.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed and dropped the phone, which scuttled across the wide expanse of the table.

It was stopped by the sheer drop to the ground, nervously running back and forth along the edge. Tiny chitters emerged from its voice processor.

"Sam?"

Will cursed Ratchet's entrance as it spooked the Nokia again and it started hissing, tiny gattling gun swivelling around and around. It wasn't armed, but it was good at posing, Lennox mused.

"It's alive?" Ratchet exclaimed and peered at the human-created robot.

The Nokia spit expletives. At least Will thought they were. He didn't understand the language, but the tone of voice was clear.

"Ratchet, you're scaring it!" Sam called. "It's terrified."

Ratchet moved back a little, still scanning the revived cell phone transformer, and the Nokia cowered down, hissing slightly. It wasn't more than an ant compared to Ratchet's size, but it wasn't scared enough to simply give up. Its wing-like structures flared now and then, accompanied by what seemed to be threats. Not that it had any chance against even a human, for all its tiny size, but it had courage. A lot of courage.

"Can you touch its mind?" Will wanted to know, glancing briefly at Sam.

"Yeah. Now that it's out of stasis it's easy. It's afraid and confused. I think it remembers Sector Seven, but not by much. I get images of pain…" He shivered. "Poor little thing."

Will approached and the Nokia hissed a warning, like a rattler trying to scare off a potentially dangerous predator. Lennox didn't turn around, but he cautioned his approach even more.

Wings flared.

Pin-point legs jittered nervously.

"Hey," he said softly. "We're not trying to hurt you."

Red optics brightened briefly.

Suddenly it tilted its head and chirruped. It took tentative steps forward and tilted its head. Another chirrup. This time it sounded quizzical.

Lennox hunkered down, smiling at the cell phone. He had no relation to it, other than the fact that he had seen its birth and death, like Sam had as well. It wasn't even his. Glen Whitman had 'donated' the shell, then had seen it come to life. He had never asked about it again.

There was chittering, then a chirrup, and the Nokia came even closer. Like a frightened animal, sniffing at a hand held out in peace, it inched closer and closer. The red optics scanned Lennox, flying over his face as if following…

"The runes," Will whispered. "Its looking at the runes."

He held out a hand. Aside from Ironhide's name around his wrist, there was a lazily moving string of glyphs running over the back of his hand and down his ring finger.

The Nokia made small hiccupping noises, then inched closer. Barely a breath apart now from Lennox's fingers, it reached out with a tiny claw and touched the string of glyphs. They swirled around the point of contact and Will held completely still. Those were ancient glyphs, cosmic code, and he couldn't read it. Whatever they were, the Nokia seemed to be fascinated.

A strange purr emerged from its voice processor.

"Wow," Will heard Sam whisper, awed. "I… it feels so calm now. It doesn't understand the runes, but it feels safe."

Lennox smiled. "Hey," he addressed the Nokia softly. "I'm Will."

Red optics met brown eyes, wide with curiosity and without a single flicker of aggression. Lennox turned his hand palm up and after a moment of hesitation, the Nokia carefully stepped onto it. Runes pulsed under the four spindly legs, then sank into Will's skin. The Nokia made a curious sound and peered hard at the flexible skin, then poked gently as if to find the missing runes.

Will chuckled and rose to stand. "Don't worry. They're still there."

A whirring noise turning into another chirrup, then it clicked softly.

"Looks like you've been adopted," Sam remarked and approached carefully.

The Nokia moved uneasily and its wing-like back structures flared briefly, but it didn't try to flee or attack.

"It recognizes me," Sam told the older man. "It knows I'm the one who can touch its mind."

"How stable is it?" Will wanted to know.

"I can't feel any drain or imbalance in its core programming."

"So it's not just a brief revival?"

"I don't know, but I doubt it. It's strong, Will. It wouldn't have survived otherwise."

_Strong and brave,_ Will thought.

He remembered the feeling he had had inside the Hoover Dam complex, the sensation of death and loss and so much suffering. It had been suffocating and chilling and terrifying. The little cell had survived all that. And it hadn't come back as a raving lunatic.

Ratchet came almost noiselessly closer, but the Nokia reacted anyway. It chattered nervously and clung to Will's shirt-sleeves.

"Hey, it's okay, little one," Lennox almost cooed. "That's Ratchet. A friend. He's the resident medic and he had as much a hand in bringing you back as Sam."

The grip tightened and the red optics flared with fear.

"This will take time," Sam murmured, shooting apologetic looks at Ratchet.

"You are as much qualified to examine it as I am," Ratchet only said calmly. "I already did a first scan and it looks good. There are still parts that need repairs, but you can handle it, Sam. For now we should leave it to acclimatize at its own rate. It will need time to process the changes."

Lennox nodded and stroked two fingers over the winged back. The Nokia huddled against him, clicking softly.

"It chose you as a friend," Ratchet remarked.

Will smiled a little. "Seems like it. Sam?"

"Calming down."

"Good."

"I'm keeping an eye on its state-of-mind. I think we should give it time to realize nothing bad is going to happen, then I want to take a closer look at the circuits," Sam decided.

Lennox nodded. "I'm game. For now, I think we'll show the little guy its new home and introduce it to its new friends."

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Ironhide regarded the reborn little cell phone with wary optics. For all its tiny size it was something created by the Allspark and it had been aggressive for the few minutes it had been alive. Still, it wasn't a Decepticon and it wasn't attacking anyone now. There was nothing inherently evil about it.

Surprisingly enough, the Nokia didn't seem very much afraid of the black robot. Maybe because Lennox was always with him, maybe because Ironhide wasn't trying to poke and prod and scan it.

It kept close to Will wherever he went, either transformed into its cell phone mode and tucked away in a pocket, or sitting on his shoulder and watching everything with interest. Now and then it excitedly chattered away when it saw a particular string of runes.

"I feel like a newspaper to the little guy," Will joked.

"Do you think he can read it?" Ironhide asked.

A shrug. "No idea."

Because communication was rather difficult. The Nokia didn't speak and no one understood the chittering language. While Sam picked up the general meaning of a burst of strange sounds because he could 'sense' the meaning, Will had no such luck. It was a hit and miss kind of communication.

Closing his eyes, Will enjoyed the last rays of sunshine of the day, feeling himself relax due to the combined warmth and the closeness of his partner. Ironhide's metal armor soaked up the sun as well, though didn't convert it as easily into energon as Bumblebee's, who was more specialized, and it radiated heat into the human hybrid as he lay on top of the Topkick's hood. It was something they did quite often, Ironhide in car mode, Will propped up against the windscreen, long legs stretched out, just relaxing.

On some days Ironhide would activate the hardlight hologram, on others, as if he sensed Will wasn't in the mood, he left it off. The Nokia had folded its tiny legs under its body, optics dimmed, resting on the roof of the cab.

"It's the last one," Will said into the silence. "All the others… Sam tried to find something, but they're truly gone. Even when knowing what to look for, they… expired."

"As sad as it is," Ironhide rumbled, "it's for the better. Trauma like that is hard to work through."

"Experience?" Will asked quietly.

"Not personally. You saw what its older brother did to you, Sam and the lab. This little guy is relatively innocent. Other shells were far larger, more aggressive and were killed with the same method."

"Yeah." Will brushed his palm over the smooth, black finish in an absent-minded manner. "It was lucky and stayed more or less sane. Ratchet thinks it might one day learn to communicate in our language. Or find another means of making itself understood."

"Life is a learning process," was the philosophical answer.

Will chuckled. "Yeah. That I know."

His fingers still trailed over the black hood and he finally sat up, cross-legged, gazing out over the desert. It was getting darker and they should be going back, but he didn't feel like it at all. The Nokia twittered a question and he smiled at it.

"Afraid of the dark?" he teased.

It sprung up, chattering indignantly, and Will laughed. With a little huff, it poked hard at the hand held out to take it back. He smiled apologetically.

"Joking," Lennox calmed it.

Another twitter, then it transformed and he put it into a pocket. He slid down the hood and got into the cab. Ironhide turned back to the base, headlights piercing the falling night.

Jazz felt happy for the little cell phone. It had survived an incredible ordeal and had come out sane.

Just like him.

Only different.

He had actually died. The last remaining life force that had so stubbornly remained in his spark had only brought him back because of the Allspark. The Nokia had no spark and its consciousness had put itself into stasis, cocooned in a steadily dying place. It had been rescued in time.

Jazz sighed softly. They were survivors of a kind, but not alike.

Studying the reports Prime had forwarded to him he found he had been looking at the same mail for over ten minutes and still didn't know what it said. With an annoyed rumble he switched off the computer and left his office. Nothing pressing was going on, so he would keep himself busy with some hands-on stuff, not mind-numbing leader stuff.

Ironhide was his first thought and the weapons specialist was only too happy to show him his latest weapons plans. Jazz found them quite interesting and thought that some of these modifications would probably suit him, too. When Ironhide proposed some tests, he was only too happy to say yes.

It took his mind off matters. Off himself.

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Lack of communication was a problem. It had tried, but its processors seemed to scramble all it wanted to say and turn it into gibberish.

It was annoying. It was a bother. It was an obstacle in understanding and being understood.  
The human called Will Lennox, the one with the most fascinating skin it had ever seen, was patient and tried to bridge the gap. The other human, Sam Witwicky, had the advantage of being able to at least read part of its responses because of his abilities.

Still, the Nokia felt deaf and dumb.

The Autobots had received it with mixed responses. Their leader was cautious, but friendly. The big black one tolerated the Nokia because of Lennox, it seemed, though he had apparently taken an interest outside that connection. The one called Jazz had been helpful in reconnecting the download function, which had enabled the little mech to access the internet. That helped and the music sites Jazz had pointed it to weren't all too bad either. His partner Barricade was scary and the Nokia kept away from him. Ratchet was associated with medical procedures and Bumblebee was just another Autobot with who the Nokia wasn't in that close contact.

Things changed when Lennox drove to the Airforce base. The Nokia felt excited, watching everything going on around them with interest. It had to hide as they entered the base and it couldn't walk around freely – safety restrictions; it understood those – but it was incredible nevertheless.

And then it met Captain Mike Bowman.

For some reason the little bot was immediately interested in the human. Lennox had been interesting because of the runes. They had fascinated the Nokia. It couldn't understand them, but it recognized them as positive, as safe. The human captain was… different. And he was interested in the tiny life form.

It started to hang our around the captain.

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Mike Bowman had been fascinated by the mechanical life forms the moment he had been briefed on their existence, and being liaison to the Autobot base had been like a dream come true. Working with Will Lennox, who was the Autobots' counter-part to his job, proved to be unlike anything he had ever done before. The man himself was unlike anyone he knew, right down to bearing apparently alive runes on his skin, but he was a nice guy.

The day Lennox brought the Nokia along Bowman knew he really had to give the idea of transferring to the Autobot base another thought. Lennox told him the background of the small mech and it touched something inside the pilot. It hurt to think that his own kind could have been so cruel, but there were shadows in every corner and he got to know them bit by bit. The longer he worked with the Autobots, the more trust he received. Part of that trust was giving Bowman a better understanding of events; especially of so many years ago.

"So communication is a problem, huh?"

The Nokia gazed up at him, apparently a bit miffed, as well as embarrassed. It chattered something.

"Ever tried text messages?"

It gave an irritated squeal.

"We tried," Lennox translated. "Something inside the little guy is scrambling all attempts of communications. He wants to say something, but the translation comes out wrong. Ratchet said he found a similar illness in humans. It's called aphasia. At least a subcategory of it. It knows what it's saying, but what we hear is not what it thinks it says."

"You keep saying 'it'. Ironhide is a 'he'…"

Lennox smiled. "Wish I could give you an easy explanation as to genders. They don't really have them, but in their language they call themselves 'he'. There are some that are 'she', but don't ask me to tell you why. Something concerning rank or status or whatever. We keep referring to the little guy as an 'it' because for one, it was created here and second, we don't know whether it would have a gender-specific address for itself."

"Or a name," Bowman pointed out.

"Or that."

The captain regarded the Nokia as it watched them curiously, making little chirruping noises.

"Text messages don't work and the processor is scrambled. What a mess," he remarked.

It got him a warbling chirp in return.

"What about image communication?"

Lennox laughed. "You want to try? Be my guest. It's infinitely curious, so you can work with it if you want. Try to teach him."

Bowman shrugged. "Sure. On the base?"

"As long as you two stay under cover."

A grin answered that. "Hey, it's not a friggin' huge truck."

The Nokia shrilled in agreement and transformed, showing it understood perfectly.

Bowman studied the insect-like mech. "So… you want to hang around?"

It scurried around the table, twittering loudly.

"I take that as a yes." Bowman held out a hand. "May I offer a lift?"

It stepped almost gracefully onto the offered palm and chirruped. The captain looked at Lennox.

Will smiled. "Have fun, Captain."

"Oh, I think we will as long as the little guy understands the rules."

twip!

"Which I think he does. But I'll give him the Airforce handbook anyway," Bowman laughed.

twiptwip!

Lennox smiled, nodding. "Any problems, you know where to find us. Have fun with your new pal, Captain."

Bowman nodded. "I think we will."

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A month later the Nokia more or less made clear that it wanted to stay with Bowman. It came as no big surprise, at least to Will and Sam, who had kept track of the little guy and his Airforce captain. While communication was haphazard still and image communication worked only to a certain point, there was a connection between those two. Bowman loved the little mech and he had undertaken efforts to help the Nokia make itself understood. The small bot had even replaced his old phone, now doubling as a communication device – and it worked perfectly. Incoming and outgoing calls and text messages were crystal clear; only its own were a garbled mess.

Ratchet had made sure that all filters and security features were in place. The Nokia had been both amused and slightly annoyed that the Autobots didn't trust him to work securely. Still, he had let the medic do his job.

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Optimus Prime knelt on the ground, looking at their human ally and the revived creation of the Allspark.

"We appreciate your care," he addressed Bowman, "and your cooperation," he transferred his gaze to the Nokia on Bowman's shoulder. "But I must stress the danger of discovery."

The Nokia warbled a little, red optics flashing while the wings flared.

Bowman smiled grimly. "We know that, Prime. Unless there's an emergency, Wi-Fi stays in cell phone mode. He can explore all he wants while it's only me, but all other access is done by wireless connection." The captain shrugged. "Sam helped me install a port so the little guy can keep up to date and sate his thirst for knowledge."

Prime nodded. "I understand. It still is a risk, but I respect your wish. Wi-Fi is, after all, a sentient individual. And he is in your care, Captain Bowman."

"Thank you, Optimus Prime."

The tall Autobot leader rose. "Seeing what had to perish in the past, Wi-Fi's survival is a miracle. His sanity even more so."

Bowman could only agree. The small mech was damaged, yes. In more ways than one. But he was sentient. Wi-Fi had not only chosen to be a 'he' when he had finally understood gender issues and the matter of the neutral 'it', he had also insisted on a name. Since a brand was never a name, more like his sub-group, he had finally decided on Wi-Fi, which was fine with everyone. Bowman took to calling him 'Spidey' to tease him, which had already resulted in annoyed mutters and a pellet to his leg. Those gattling gun pellets could hurt. It didn't stop the teasing, though.

"It is," Bowman said softly, smiling at the quiet warble from the Nokia.

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They left two hours later, accompanied by Lennox. It was a quiet ride back, with Wi-Fi sitting on Ironhide's dashboard, watching the road with excited interest.

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Lennox's duties as liaison to Nellis brought him to the Airbase a lot. With the construction of the Ghost-2, the selection of a crew, technicians and engineers, choosing people they could trust, and running them through the recruitment mill, his life was never boring. The same factors applied to those people that had applied to prior choices for Epps' second unit as well.

Throughout his visits and stays, Will never failed to spend time with Wi-Fi and 'his' human. While the little Nokia was unable to voice what he felt and thought correctly, the way he stuck with Bowman and chattered quietly now and then, or just clung to the captain in an almost possessive way, said it all.

"Adopted," Ironhide had remarked the second time they had paid a visit.

And he was right. Where Bowman went, Wi-Fi was never missing. Since the captain wasn't married and in no relationship at the moment, there was no danger of an outsider stumbling over the Nokiabot. He lived on the base and the Air Force was his life, he had once told Lennox.

Will understood. Career military. He still wanted to sway Bowman into transferring to the Autobot base one day. They needed people like him and the chance that the Autobots' presence leaked to the world in general was rising with each passing month. One day the President would have to announce the alien contact; hopefully not just after an armada of Decepticons had attacked the planet.

Until then, life remained as top secret as every day.

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Barricade would never confess to worrying about anything or anyone. He might give certain situations another thought, but worry was a weakness, and Decepticons never showed weakness.

Then again, no other Decepticon had ever had a spark-bond, as far as he knew. It made a difference. It made all the difference in the world. To be partnered with Jazz was even more outstanding because despite all the outside differences, they were so incredibly alike.

That his partner was torn inside because of the events around the revived Nokiabot didn't really surprise Barricade. He had his own demons surrounding the death and rebirth of the silver Autobot. He rarely let them out or even close to the surface, but right now he did because he shared them with Jazz.

The Solstice trembled a little and Barricade felt every shiver through his sensors. While he didn't have the delicate and highly receptive sensor net Jazz possessed, he wasn't blind. Sharing full body contact in their car forms, he let the silver one push ever closer, seeking and receiving a comfort Jazz would actually never openly confess to out loud. These were private moments. Their moments.

It was getting better and soon Jazz would push everything aside once more, be his usual self.

Barricade opened his side of the bond and sent a silent request for Jazz to do the same. The offer was gratefully taken.

Barricade didn't mind this sliding toward sharing. Not at all. Sometimes the energy rush was what was needed to erase darker thoughts. It had worked throughout the all-out civil war on Cybertron, and matters had been a lot worse there. Now it worked its own magic, calming his partner and calming himself. Knowing Jazz was there, alive, did wonders to his own mental condition.

A hum reverberated through him, followed by a satisfied smile that was neither an image nor a word, really. It was just… there. None of the scientists throughout known history had ever been able to explain the bond, to pin it down in formulas, equations or a satisfying explanation. It was just there, it filled a void.

Jazz's smile widened. :Sucker:

Barricade uncharacteristically laughed and pulled him in tight. :Autobot: he only replied.


End file.
